DOCTOR: (stepping out of TARDIS, exhales blissfully) Ah, yes, that's more like it. Hath not old custom made this life more sweet than that of painted pomp? Are not these woods more free from peril than the envious court?

CONSTANCE: As You Like It.

DOCTOR: And it is as I like it: tranquil, solitary, quiet. Just the wind in the trees and our breath on the air.