RIVER: You don't look much like your pictures.

DOCTOR: Well, that's an ongoing problem for me.

RIVER: How do you know me?

DOCTOR: Well, it's a tiny bit complicated. People usually need a flowchart.

DOCTOR: It's my back.

RIVER: Your back?

DOCTOR: Yeah, my back's playing up. It simply refuses to carry the weight of an entirely pointless stratum of society who contribute nothing of worth to the world and crush the hopes and dreams of working people.

RIVER: An archaeologist is just a thief. With patience.

DOCTOR: My entire understanding of physical space has been transformed! Three-dimensional Euclidean geometry has been torn up, thrown in the air and snogged to death! My grasp of the universal constants of physical reality has been changed forever!

DOCTOR: Sorry. I've always wanted to see that done properly.

RIVER: Does sarcasm help?

DOCTOR: Wouldn't it be a great universe if it did?

RIVER: The man who gave me this was the sort of man who'd know exactly how long a diary you were going to need.

DOCTOR: He sounds awful.

RIVER: I suppose he is. I've never really thought about it.

RIVER: When you love the Doctor, it's like loving the stars themselves. You don't expect a sunset to admire you back. And if I happen to find myself in danger, let me tell you, the Doctor is not stupid enough, or sentimental enough, and he is certainly not in love enough to find himself standing in it with me!

RIVER: I'm an archaeologist from the future. I dug you up.

RIVER: I had this book. History's Finest Exploding Restaurants. The best food for free. Skip the coffee.

DOCTOR: You look, er, amazing.

RIVER: Doctor, you have no idea whether I look amazing or not.

DOCTOR: Well, you've moved your hair about, haven't you?

RIVER: Well done. It's very sweet of you to try.

DOCTOR: Times end, River, because they have to. Because there's no such thing as happy ever after. It's just a lie we tell ourselves because the truth is so hard.

RIVER: No, Doctor, you're wrong. Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time. But that's not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it?

RIVER: So, assuming tonight is all we have left.

DOCTOR: I didn't say that.

RIVER: How long is a night on Darillium?

DOCTOR: Twenty four years.

RIVER: I hate you.

DOCTOR: No, you don't.

DOCTOR: Get back in the TARDIS, this is my job!

RIVER: This is my job!

DOCTOR: I've been doing it for longer!

RIVER: And I do it better!

DOCTOR: River, not one person on this ship, not one living thing is worth you!

RIVER: Or you!