Vera Donovan: Sometimes, Dolores... sometimes, you have to be a high-riding bitch to survive. Sometimes, being a bitch is all a woman has to hang onto.
Vera Donovan: Husbands die every day, Dolores. Why... one is probably dying right now while you're sitting here weeping. They die... and leave their wives their money. I should know, shouldn't I? Sometimes they're driving home from their mistress' apartment and their brakes suddenly fail. An accident, Dolores, can be an unhappy woman's best friend.
Selena St. George: I don't know how to feel about what you did... maybe I never will, Mom. But I know, I know you did it for me.
Vera Donovan: Don't you just love the Bossa Nova? I found them in New York and simply had to have them.
Vera Donovan: Don't we have a hair across our ass this morning, Dolores Claiborne?
Selena St. George: There is no Arizona.
Dolores Claiborne: So you can just go and fuck yourself. That is if you can get that limp old noodle of yours to stand up.
Dolores Claiborne: I got another surprise for you, Joe.
Joe St. George: What, did someone invent a pill to cure ugly?
Kid on street: Look.
Kid on street: Hey Miss Claiborne.
Kid on street: Kill anyone else today?
Dolores Claiborne: Not just yet, when I change my mind I'll know exactly where to start.
Dolores Claiborne: Now, you listen to me, Mr. Grand High Poobah of Upper Buttcrack, I'm just about half-past give a shit with your fun and games.
Dolores Claiborne: I did not murder that bitch any more than I'm wearing a diamond tiara.
Vera Donovan: Think what fun you'll have telling all your friends what a bitch Vera Donovan is.
Dolores Claiborne: If you wanna know what kind of life a person had, just look at their hands.
Vera Donovan: Well, don't look to me, Dolores. All my money is tied up in cash.
Joe St. George: What are you talking about, I never touched Selena.
Dolores Claiborne: Oh yeah? Well then how come you're making a face like the devil just reached down and grabbed those little raisins you call balls?
Dolores Claiborne: Hell ain't somethin' you get thrown into overnight. Nope. Real hell comes on you slow and steady as a line of wet winter sheets.