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.
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.
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.
Vera Donovan: Don't you just love the Bossa Nova? I found them in New York and simply had to have them.
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.