ROSE: But, it's like, think about it, though. Christmas. 1860. Happens once, just once and it's gone, it's finished, it'll never happen again. Except for you. You can go back and see days that are dead and gone a hundred thousand sunsets ago. No wonder you never stay still.

DOCTOR: Now, don't antagonise her. I love a happy medium.

DOCTOR: Time's in flux, changing every second. Your cozy little world can be rewritten like that. Nothing is safe. Remember that. Nothing.

ROSE: But it's 1869. How can I die now?

DOCTOR: Time isn't a straight line. It can twist into any shape. You can be born in the twentieth century and die in the nineteenth and it's all my fault. I brought you here.

ROSE: It's not your fault. I wanted to come.

DICKENS: There are more things in Heaven and Earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Even for you, Doctor.

DOCTOR: Honestly, Charles... Can I call you Charles? I'm such a big fan!

CHARLES DICKENS: Uh, you're a what? A big what?

DOCTOR: Fan! Number one fan, that's me!

CHARLES DICKENS: How exactly are you a "fan"? In what way do you resemble a means of keeping oneself cool?

CHARLES DICKENS: What phantasmagoria is this?