Blanche: Do you want to be buried or cremated?
Blanche: What do you want to be, flushed down the toilet like a goldfish?
Rose: I wouldn't want to be cremated. I hate heat. (Pouring some milk) And burial? I hate small places. I'm a little claustrophobic.
Blanche: Rose, you're not gonna know anything. You're gonna be dead.
Rose: Oh, well, then burial, I guess. But will you promise to put a blanket in with me?
Rose: Oh, I'd just feel more comfortable... cozier. And I'd want my pictures of Charlie and the animals. (Walking to Blanche over at the table) You know, the ones in the little silver frames. And my pictures of the children. And of course, if I'm married again, I'd want a picture of my new husband. And the candlesticks Mama gave me.
Blanche: (Interrupting) Rose, it's a coffin, not a condo.