The Golden Girls, Season 5

Sophia:
[to Dorothy, who is about to leave for a doctor's appointment] Wipe off your makeup.

Dorothy:
What?

Sophia:
You look too healthy. Maybe that's why they don't believe you, you don't look sick.

[Blanche enters the kitchen in her pajamas, clutching her notebooks to her chest. She looks gaunt, exhausted and emaciated.]

Sophia:
[indicating Blanche] She should go, they'd believe her.

Rose:
Blanche, you look terrible.

Blanche:
What day is this? I've been up for 72 hours. I've had a breakthrough. I've discovered a new form of writing. I will go down in history. First I wrote all day, then I tore it all up, and then that night it came to me and the words poured forth like liquid from a stream. It was almost a mystical experience. Somebody else was writing this.

Rose:
Who?

Blanche:
Everyman. This is "Everyman"'s work. It's all gold. Just open it anywhere, the magic will touch you. But I'm so tired, I must sleep, but I cannot sleep, I'm too tired to sleep. I will never sleep again. I may die from this. I just don't know what I'm going to do--[seeing a bag of egg yolks; after a minute she picks them up and studies them]--my God, I'm hallucinating! I see little balls of sunshine in a bag! Does this mean something?

Rose:
Those are egg yolks, Blanche.

Blanche:
[tosses bag aside] My brain's gone. My body is limp with exhaustion. I suppose all the greats knew this feeling. And the thing is, after all this, I've decided not to sell my book. It's too good to sell. They can publish it after I'm dead, like Vincent van Gogh.

Dorothy:
Van Gogh was a painter, Blanche.

Blanche:
Whatever. It's all the same thing. We're all artists, we're all misunderstood. He cut off his hair, maybe I'll cut off mine. [grasps at her hair]

Dorothy:
He cut off his ear.

Blanche:
[contemplatively] I have too many earrings...

Sophia:
[tapping Dorothy on the arm and standing] We got to go. I hate to leave, I've never seen a show like this before.

Rose:
Good luck, Dorothy. I hope he finds something wrong with you. [Dorothy stares at her] Oh, I don't mean something wrong wrong. I just mean something wrong so that you know you're right when you know there's something wrong and you haven't been wrong all along.

Blanche:
My God, I can't even understand people when they speak anymore, I'm so tired. What'd she just say, Dorothy? Was that a poem?

Dorothy:
Rose, make her lie down.

Blanche:
[brushing past Rose] Well, I do try, I try, but I just flop right up again like one of those clowns you hit. [dramatically] I'll never rest, I'll never rest again! [Dorothy exits] Have a good time, Dorothy, buy me a present!

Rose:
[seating Blanche at the table] I'll make you some nice hot milk, and then we're going to pile you into bed.

Blanche:
Rose, you're my friend, so I'm going to let you read a few pages, but you have to give me your word you wont tell anyone, your word.

Rose:
Of course, and then will you sleep?

Blanche:
Whatever. I can trust you, I know I can. You're from Minnesota. People from Minnesota are honest, they don't lie. What could you possibly find to lie about on a farm? Must be some state. Lots of lakes and nice pale people... I'd drown myself. [Rose looks offended] Read, Rose, don't talk. I must publish a guide to go with my book, it's too full of references people could not possibly understand. It will be taught in universities. [stares at the bag of egg yolks again] Rose, what is this? Yellow eyeballs are staring at me.

Rose:
Those are egg yolks, Blanche--Blanche, you are exhausted. You have to sleep.

Blanche:
"To sleep, perchance to dream..." [gasps] My God, what a wonderful line! Oh! [shudders] I'm getting so good, I can't stand it! I ought to write it in my book, that line. What do you think, Rose? What page are you on?

Rose:
Well, to tell you the truth, Blanche, I don't understand any of this. It doesn't seem to make any sense.

Blanche:
[laughs] Doesn't make sense? Since when are you a literary critic, Rose Nylund?

Rose:
Well, I'm not!

Blanche:
You're from Minnesota. What have you read, for God's sake, Silas Marner? Paul Bunyan? Nothing! You know nothing! People from Minnesota are considered well-read if they get through the Sears catalog! [grabbing her notebooks] Give me back my book. This is why Hollywood won't get it, either. I won't have my words coming out of Glenn Close's mouth. I'd rather die!