Sean: (when the family learns that Amy isn't really dead) Mother, what in the name of common sense?!?!
Amy: I'll get to you later. Let me deal with this one first. You miserable, ungrateful boy! All these years, I'm thinking you're dead, killed in the Indian War or Stone River, or Shiloh! How could you do this to me? How could you forget your own mother? Fifteen years of hurt and worry, waiting for a letter from the war department, and not a move you make until you think I'm dead and gone. And you, Sean. I'm supposed to forgive you too, I suppose?
Sean: Now, just a minute, Amy Hearn! You've got some explaining to do!
Bridget: How could you do it? How could you let them tell us you were dead?
Sean: You had no right, Mother!
Amy: Rights? You're talking about rights? Whose rights? I've got a right to see my own children and grandchildren. It comes before anything else! And you ask how I could do it. Well, it isn't hard when you've tried everything else, when you're so hungry for the sight and feel of your family. You can't sleep at night thinking of them, and when it comes to you, the one thing that will bring them to you is your own wake...well, it isn't hard to do at all. Sean, I heard you say it. "Why is it," you said, "you have to wait until they're gone before you know what they mean to you"? Well, you mean everything to me, you three. (long pause) 80 years old, and I don't have many birthdays left. Maybe...maybe not even one. And when you think of that, you have...you have to be foolish. (starts crying)