Stella: Y'know, I saw this TV show: Rosie O'Donnell took a bunch of dykes on a cruise to Nova Scotia, then this flock of lesbians got married there.

Dot: Flock?

Stella: That's what they call us when we're in a group; a gaggle of gays, a flock of lesbians. Like in nature.

Dot: Stella, are you proposing to me?

Stella: Maybe.

Waitress: You seemed... familiar.

Stella: You know, if that skirt was any shorter, you'd need another hair net.

Prentice: [pointing at the car radio] Who's this?

Stella: Who's this? Who is this?

Prentice: What?

Stella: k.d. lang. This is k.d. lang. Jesus Anne Heche Christ.

[At the Canadian border, a bag of Dotty's medicine is found]

Border Patrol: Whose drugs are these?

Stella: Not mine!

Prentice: Mine.

Border Patrol: Your name is Dorothy?

Prentice: On weekends.

Guillaume: You're giving these people my breakfast?

Cat: It's just eggs and sausage, Guillaume.

Guillaume: She already had my fucking sausage.

Stella: Well, now she needs a bigger one.

Stella: If you're ever lucky enough to have a perfect day, don't let go of it. Bank it. Paint a picture of it.

Molly: Well, I know what lesbians look like. I mean, I'm not stupid. But you guys aren't exactly Ellen and Portia.