DOCTOR: May I ask what you're doing here?

ORCINI: You may, but only a fool would expect an answer.

DOCTOR: Well, how do you think I feel? I'm a nine hundred year old Time Lord. Not much dignity in scrambling over a wall like a small boy into an orchard on a scrumping spree.

GRIGORY: Instant death doesn't bother me. It's the long lingering kind I'm worried about. You forget I'm a doctor. When they slice me open, I'll know the name and function of each organ that plops out.

NATASHA: Well, at least you won't die in ignorance.