Blanche: Rose, honey, you've got to stop torturing yourself like this! Now Count Bessie is gone!
Rose: I know. It's just such a tragedy. Who cooks a musician at the height of her career?
Blanche: Rose, you've got to put this in perspective. Count Bessie was a chicken. It's not as if Angela had fried up Doc Severinsen!
Dorothy: [enters the kitchen] How are you doing, Rose?
Blanche: Not very good, Dorothy.
Dorothy: Oh, honey, now listen, you may not think so now, but in a few days, you'll feel better.
Rose: No, I won't. Because Mrs. Butell will be back by then. What am I supposed to say? "Welcome home! How was your trip? Oh, by the way..." [holds up Tupperware and starts to cry] "...here's Count Bessie!"

Blanche: Rose, I'm sorry, I just don't feel comfortable having you work for me.
Sophia: I do. You wanna be my servant, Rose?
Rose: Blanche, I'm not talking about big things. I'm talking about little things, like doing your laundry.
Sophia: My laundry's more fun, Rose.
Rose: It's the only way I'll feel better about losing your earrings.
Sophia: Ever see panties from the '20's, Rose? They got pockets!

Blanche: Rose, let's go watch I Love Lucy in the kitchen.
Rose: But that set is black and white!

Blanche: Rose, see, honey, Fernando doesn't exactly belong to you anymore. Well I kinda gave him to Daisy by mistake. So, you understand now-just a silly misunderstanding! See? [everyone except Rose is laughing nervously]
Rose: No. Get him back. I want my teddy!
Blanche: But honey, she's a child! You can't expect a child to give back a toy! Now, you do understand, don't you?
Rose: Just cut the crap and get back the damn bear!

Blanche: Rose, what I didn't tell you was... when I was five, Mamma enrolled me in a tap-dancing class. For six months we practiced. One hour a day, two days a week. And I was good. I was cute, and I was good. Real good. Then finally, it came time for the night of the recital. And there were thirteen little girls up there with our little Shirley Temple curls, and our little starched white pinafores, and our little Mary Jane shoes. Then they opened the curtain and the music started and twelve little girls started to dance. And one little girl wet her pants. That girl in the puddle was me. [laughs] I have never told that to another living soul, Rose. You see, I thought I had overcome my fear, honey, but I just haven't and performing is a nightmare for me.
Rose: [sternly] Hey, we've all got our sad stories. Look, Blanche, we've practiced for six weeks, we've paid for our costumes, we told everybody we'd be there, now you're not going to wimp out on me. You're going to go to that recital. And if you end up in a puddle tonight, well, you'd just better break in to Singin' in the Rain!

Blanche: Rose, what was your first impression of me?
Rose: I thought you wore too much makeup and were a slut... I was wrong. You don't wear too much makeup.

Blanche: She's dying.
Dorothy: What?
Blanche: My sister's dying.
Rose: [entering] What?
Sophia: Dying, she's dying.
Rose: [assuming Blanche is dying] Oh my God, Blanche! I didn't even know you were sick.

Blanche: She's not a sweet kid anymore. She is holding Fernando for ransom!
Dorothy: Come on....
Blanche: Dorothy, she sent me one of his ears!!!

Blanche: So that's when this saleman from men's sportswear walks clear across the store into ladies' petite and says, "Oh excuse me, miss, but I noticed you've been having a hard time deciding between the turquoise strapless and the flaming red backless. Well, personally I'd like to see you in the backless." And I said, "When?" And he said, "How about Saturday night?" And I said, "How about in your dreams, sleazo!" Can you believe the nerve of that guy?
Rose: What were you doing in ladies petite?

Blanche: Sophia says she has no appetite since she was stabbed in the back.
Rose: Oh my God, who stabbed Sophia?!
Dorothy: The chef at Benihana, Rose.

Blanche: Sophia! Now you stop trying to trick Rose just because she's weak, and vulnerable and dimwitted.
Rose: YEAH!

Blanche: Sophia, honey, the key is to make a man think you're not interested in him! Offering to make him dinner just made you look too easy.
Sophia: Please, black underwear and pasties couldn't make me look easy.

Blanche: Sophia, where're you going?
Sophia: To my room.
Rose: But you can't, it could be dangerous!
Sophia: Please, I'm 80! Bathtubs are dangerous!

Blanche: Still worried about the money you owe the government?
Dorothy: Oh no, Blanche, I'm worried about whether Michael Jackson will be able to buy the remains of the Elephant Man.
Rose: Really? Gee, I'd be worried about the money.

Blanche: The last time a friend's sweetheart made a pass at me, I lost my friend and her beau.
Rose: And her beau?
Blanche: That's right, Anderbeau Johnson. Clyde Whitehead, Anderbeau's beau, decided he wanted to see my cheerleader sweater from the inside. So when I told Anderbeau, she blamed the whole thing on me, and then Clyde would never speak to me again for telling! I lost Anderbeau and her beau! Now you understand why I can't tell Dorothy?
Rose: I don't even understand who Anderbobo is.