Rose: [about Blanche] Wherever she goes, she finds a man!
Sophia: So do hookers.

Rose: [after she wins the coin toss to decide who gets the room Blanche had promised to both her and Dorothy] Don't worry, Dorothy, I'll make it up to you. If there's ever a night when you can't sleep, I'll come into your room and sing "Kumbaya".
Dorothy: Rose, I don't know what to say. Yes, I do: Don't ever do that.

Rose: [pretending to flirt with Elliot to make him confess to hitting on Blanche] Did anyone ever tell you, you look just like Jerry Vale?
Elliot: No...
Rose: They should. He's the only man in the world that can make the hair on my arms stand up. [begins suggestively bobbing up and down] Can I fix you a drink?
Elliot: No thank you. Is something wrong with your leg?
Rose: Nothing you can't fix, [breathily] Doctor Man!
Elliot: I beg your pardon?
Rose: I know I look square, but I'm like my father's tractor. I take a while to warm up, but once I get going I can turn your topsoil till the cows come home.
Elliot: Rose, please!
Rose: Wanna see some Polaroids of me in my tennis skirt?

Rose: [quizzing Blanche] Whose theory states a young man becomes intimate with his mother to get revenge on his father?
Blanche: Well, I don't know who said it, but my second cousin Arlen did it.

Rose: [smelling Sophia's spaghetti sauce] Sophia, that smells heavenly! Is it Chef Boyardee?
Sophia: [holding up a kitchen knife] Stick it in my heart, Rose, it'll hurt less!

Rose: [talking to Dorothy after Dorothy returns from a date with Glenn] Oh, so you spent the evening at dinner!
Dorothy: No, we spent dinner at dinner. We spent the evening at a motel.
Rose: A motel?!! Dorothy! A cheap, tawdry, bare-bulbed den of iniquity?!
Dorothy: We didn't drive to Sodom and Gomorrah, Rose.

Rose: [telling a story that is supposed to relate to Blanche's problem with Lucy, about a time she snuck into a nearby city to meet a boy she liked at a gin mill] I marched right up to the door, and I ran right into Reverend McKenzie, coming out of the bar on the arm of Millie Beasley, wife of Emmett Beasley, our town's most decorated war hero. Emmett received three Purple Hearts - all for head wounds. He ran the feed store in our town. Of course, if the truth be known, Millie was the one who had to make change for the customers.
Dorothy: Rose, are you telling a story or performing Our Town?
Rose: Oh, sorry. Anyway, Reverend McKenzie made a deal with me. He said if I didn't tell on him, he wouldn't tell on me. So I went home.
Blanche: Well, did he keep your secret?
Rose: Till the day he died - which was two days later. Emmett found Millie and the reverend skinny-dipping in the church's fountain, and shot the both of them. A week later, we became Lutherans.
Blanche: Rose, that isn't a teenage rebellion story. That is a changing religion story. That is a big "WHO CARES?" story. THAT IS A "WHY THE HELL TELL IT IN THE FIRST PLACE" STORY!!!

Rose: [while reading her phone messages] Why, oh why can't grief take a holiday?
Dorothy: Oh, it does Rose, it does. Eventually, it comes to Miami like everyone else.

Rose: And nobody wants me around.
Blanche: Oh, honey, we want you around, we just can't afford to pay you!

Rose: Dorothy, if the Egyptians built the pyramids, now we can move this toilet.
Dorothy: Fine, get me 20,000 Hebrews and I'll have it out of here in no time.

Rose: Excuse me, you made a mistake. Those peaches aren't 59 cents a pound, they're 89 cents. Honesty is the best policy.
Blanche: What are you trying to do, qualify for some scout badge?
Rose: Well, I can't help it if I'm an honest person. Obviously something you don't know anything about.
Blanche: What are you talking about?
Rose: Well, you bought pantyhose in petite. Anybody could see, you couldn't get those past your knees!
Blanche: If you don't keep your voice down, I'm going to hit you in the head with this loin of pork.
Dorothy: [looks at loin of pork] Oh, Blanche, c'mon, 15 dollars and 99 cents?! Now this is too extravagant! I'm not going in on this, besides, I don't even like loin of pork.
Blanche: Well fine, I'm not going in on this night stick.
Dorothy: This is a pepperoni.
Blanche: It's obnoxious.
Rose: Oh, excuse me, you made a mistake, that Windex isn't on sale this week. The regular price is $1.99.
Dorothy: Rose, why don't you just save it for the The Price is Right?!
Rose: Excuse me for trying to be a good American.
Blanche: Would you two please keep your voices down?! I have shopped and dated extensively throughout this market!
Dorothy: That does it, that does it, I am shopping for myself.
Rose: Fine, Blanche and I will do very nicely on our own.
Blanche: Oh no, I'm not shopping with you, Mary Poppins.
Rose: Fine!

Rose: I can't tell her her husband died in my bed.
Sophia: Tell her you went to turn on the sprinklers, and you found him on the lawn.
Rose: That's not bad...
Dorothy: Oh, Rose.
Rose: Well, I've never had to do this before! Tell a wife that her husband's been cheating on her with me! That's the hardest thing ever to have to tell anybody.
Blanche: Oh, no, it's not! How about having to tell a pregnant woman that her husband's been cheating on her...with her own sister...and you're the sister...and you're pregnant too. By her husband.
Dorothy: You...didn't!
Blanche: Not me! Last night on Dallas! Or Dynasty or Falcon's Landing, or one of those, they're all the same.
Rose: Oh! I thought you were the one-
Blanche: Oh please! I could never do a thing like that. And if you ever saw my brother-in-law, you'd know why!

Rose: I don't know what to wear on a cruise.
Blanche: A life jacket and a great big smile.

Rose: I got tickets too. This is such a coincidence. I was driving down Biscayne Boulevard--
Blanche: No, no, no, no! Please, I cannot bear that again. She was listening to her car radio, Big Band, not All Talk. There was a contest. Something about a little voice, a lucky number, a dime and a doorhandle. Then bim bam boom, she won the tickets!
Dorothy: Take a lesson, Rose. That's how you tell a story.

Rose: I know grief. It takes time.
Dorothy: Please, Rose. Listen, if you're Irish, you have a wake. You eat, you cry, you drink, you vomit and you're done. If you're Jewish, you cry, you sit, you eat for seven days. You put on ten pounds, and it's over. We Italians scream, dress up a donkey, hire a band, and that's that. It's these Southern Protestants who make it a way of life.