Sophia: I'm making a scarf for a friend I don't have anymore.
Rose: I know exactly how you feel. [holds up a pair of teddy bear-sized overalls] I made these for Fernando.

Sophia: If you didn't come here to apologize, why don't you leave?
Angela: Why should I apologize?
Sophia: I'll tell you why, because you're nothing but a back-stabbing Judas in sensible shoes!
Angela: Oh, yeah? Well, you know what you are? You're a two-lire tramp with cheap bridgework!
Sophia: May you put your dentures in upside down and chew your head off!
Angela: May your legs grow old and gnarled and withered like an olive branch... [looking at Sophia's legs] you should be so lucky.
Sophia: May your moles grow hair thicker than Jerry Vale's!
Angela: May your marinara sauce never cling to your pasta!
Sophia: Oooooh [biting her own fist], that's it! Come back here and say that to my face!

Sophia: Is it true what they say about black men in bed?
Blanche: Oh yes definitely...[everybody stares at her] Oh yes. Definitely, that is something I would like to know about too.
Dorothy: Come on Blanche, that's a stereotype.
Trudy: Call it whatever you want, I'm just grateful it's true.

Sophia: Is this helping anyone yet; cause this sure feels like an ending to me.
Rose: Oh, it's helping me Sophia--what I got out of the story was that you should take a bad situation and make it better! [jumps up] I'm gonna tell my boss off! [rushes out]
Blanche: That's not quite what I got out of it Sophia, I thought you were trying to tell me to dump my cheating boyfriend because there's lots of pepperoni in the sea!
Sophia: Yeah...that's exactly what I was trying to tell you.
Blanche: Thank you Sophia. [Blanche leaves]
Sophia: What about you, Dorothy, did I help you with your problem?
Dorothy: You sure did, Ma, I didn't know what to have for dinner. How about splitting a pepperoni pizza?
Sophia: Sure, you buying?
Dorothy: Does a pepperoni swim upstream?
Sophia: It did once, let's go!

Sophia: Jealousy is an ugly thing, Dorothy. And so are you, in anything backless.

Sophia: Jean is a nice person. She happens to like girls instead of guys. Some people like cats instead of dogs. Frankly, I'd rather live with a lesbian than a cat.

Sophia: Jean thinks she's in love with Rose.
Blanche: Rose? Jean has the hots for Rose?!! I don't believe it, I do not believe it!
Dorothy: I was pretty surprised myself.
Blanche: Well, I'll bet! To think Jean would prefer Rose over me! That's ridiculous!
Dorothy: Blanche, please!
Blanche: Now you tell me the truth, if you had to pick between me and Rose, who would you pick? Who?
Dorothy: Blanche, pull yourself together!
Blanche: Oh... I'm sorry. Does Rose know?
Dorothy: No.
Blanche: Oh good, I don't think you ought to tell her. After all, she's not as worldly and sophisticated about these things as I am.
Sophia: Absolutely. If she finds out Danny Thomas is a lesbian, it'll break her heart.

Sophia: Let me tell you a story. Sicily. 1912. Picture this. Two young girls, best friends, who share three things: a pizza recipe, some dough and a dream. Everything is going great until one day a fast talking pepperoni salesman gallops into town. Of course, both girls are impressed. He dates one one night, the other the next night. Pretty soon, he drives a wedge between them. Before you know it, the pizza suffers, the business suffers, the friendship suffers. The girls part company and head for America, never to see one another again. Rose, one of those girls was me. The other one you probably know as Mama Celeste.

Sophia: Let me tell you girls the three most important things I've learned about life. Number one, hold fast to your friends. Number two, there's no such thing as security. Number three, don't go see Ishtar. Woof! [makes face]

Sophia: Look at this picture of Kessler, Dorothy. There's a secret behind those eyes. Trust my hunch on this one, I'm never wrong.
Dorothy: Oh, come on. Ma, remember your hunch about your nephew Angelo? You said one day he'd be pope!
Sophia: Dorothy, you gotta pay attention! I said one day he'd sell dope! What do you think he went to Attica for? The volleyball program?

Sophia: My name is Sophia Petrillo and my idea of a good psychiatrist is a bartender who pours without a spout.

Sophia: My son married a welder. Too bad she didn't weld his zipper shut; they got ten kids they can't afford.

Sophia: Oh Dorothy, can I make a little suggestion when you go for your makeover?
Dorothy: Sure. What is it?
Sophia: Don't expect a miracle.

Sophia: Ohhhh!
Dorothy: What, ma? What?!
Sophia: Pain.
Dorothy: What kind of pain?
Sophia: The kind that hurts!

Sophia: Picture it! Sicily, 1922. An attractive peasant girl who has saved her lire embarks on a glorious vacation to a Crimean resort on the Black Sea. For weeks, she frolics at the seaside resort and enjoys the company of many young men, all of whom adore her.
Edna: ALL of them?
Sophia: Shut up, Edna, I work alone. All of them. When it's time to return to Sicily, three different suitors beg her to stay. But she can't decide who to choose, so she chooses none of them. But she agrees to meet with them at the same resort many years later. To her trio of suitors, that eventful gathering was referred to as "Rendezvous with Sophia." But to the rest of the world, it was better known as the Yalta Conference.