Ginny:
Rose left me with a riddle I have not yet resolved: how we judge those that hurt us and show no remorse.
Rose:
Don't make me feel sorry for myself. The more pissed off I am, the better I feel.
Rose:
We're not going to be sad. We're going to be angry till we die.
Ginny:
It was Rose who dropped things through the grates. It was Rose who sang.
Larry Cook:
You can't have children, but you, Rose, your children will laugh when you die.