BERNICE: You know, madness is the first sign of talking to yourself.

DOCTOR: Well, let's see: I've never much enjoyed the company of Daleks. Or Cybermen. I've crossed swords with the Master more times than I care to remember, and the Black Guardian is bound to catch up with me one day... but do I fear them? Not really: but I do fear the harm they intend, the misery and destruction they can cause.

DOCTOR: Break, damn you! Break! You've never had a spanner like this thrown in you! Chew on me till your teeth crack. Grind me up till your gears lock. I'm the nail in your tyre, the potato jammed in your exhaust pipe, the treacle poured in your petrol tank. I'm the banana peel beneath your foot, the joker that ruins your straight flush, the coin that always comes up heads and the gun you didn't know was loaded. I am the Doctor!

DOCTOR : Injustice is the rule, but I want justice. Suffering is the rule, but I want to end it. Despair accords with reality, but I insist on hope. I don't accept it because it is unacceptable. I say no.

DOCTOR: Believing in magic is easy, the reaction of a cowardly mind to explain away any phenomenon that vexes the intellect. But finding magic in the realities of existence… seeking out some hidden truth to cling to from every painful experience we endure… that is never easy. That takes courage.

DOCTOR: Me? I'm chance. The role of the dice that comes up seven. The straight flush. The fifth bingo number. Also, I'm from another planet. Don't ask me which planet. I've forgotten.

ANJI: Do you think he's different? Since New Orleans, I mean.

FITZ: Different how?

ANJI: I don't know. Calmer. A bit more at peace.

FITZ: Maybe. Yeah, actually. It's subtle, but it's there. Like he's resolved something.

ANJI: What, do you think?

FITZ: No idea. And no sense speculating. That way madness lies.

ANJI: Why does he inspire such loyalty? Why do we think we ought to be helping him and looking out for him?

FITZ: Because he's good. He's bigger than we are, somehow. More full of life.

FITZ: I don't think the Doctor quite gets evil, not really, no matter how much he's fought it. Basically, it just doesn't make sense to him. He's an innocent. And that's scary, it gives him a blind spot.

ANJI: Do you really think he's good?

FITZ: (nods emphatically) Bloody awful sometimes. But always good.

RUST: How long since you lost your memory?

DOCTOR: About a hundred years.

RUST: You hardly seem forty. Can you even die?

DOCTOR: Yes.

RUST: You don't sound certain.

DOCTOR: I am, though. I'm as certain as if I'd died once already. Isn't that strange?

DOCTOR: If I were a demon, you'd have been in pieces ten minutes ago. I'm an alien. Not of this earth. Oh come on, you've seen the movies. We're not pre-Spielberg, are we? Wasn't Close Encounters in the seventies? This is your close encounter, Dupre. Welcome to the mysteries.

FITZ: It's always hard to know with him. You overreact, and then he walks in after a three-day hunt for the perfect jelly baby and you feel like a right git. So next time he's gone, you tell yourself it's just him being disorganised and forgetful, and find out he's been locked in a dungeon by something with tentacles.

Her head turned towards him. 'Your blood smells funny.'

The Doctor was beginning to feel more and more light-hearted. 'That's because my blood is funny. Two leucocytes walk into a bar. The first one says "Do you serve subpoenas here?"' He trailed off. 'That joke doesn't even make sense,' he said worriedly.

DUPRE: Have you travelled the universe?

DOCTOR: The universe, the obverse, the reverse. The inverse, where everything has to rhyme. The freeverse, where nothing ever does. I'm well versed.

ANJI: It spooks me when he gets like that.

FITZ: Yeah.

ANJI: You know why he does, don't you. Why he forgot. What he forgot.

FITZ: There's so much I don't know, Anj. He had decades on him before I met him. Maybe centuries. Probably centuries.

'He can take care of himself,' Fitz muttered, starting for the kitchen. He always had, after all, for hundreds of years. Still, at some point his luck was bound to run out. But please not today, Fitz thought, as he grasped the pantry door handle. Please never, as long as I'm with him.

DUPRE: You're not scared?

DOCTOR: I scare very, very easily. Budgies unnerve me. Gerbils throw me into a state of panic. Don't even mention rabbits.

DOCTOR: I scramble. I shoot. On occasion, I scurry. But I never scoot. Appearances must be preserved.

DOCTOR: You're torturing sentient beings to test their telepathic abilities? And you call them creatures? You label them evil? It never fails to amaze me just how conceited, egotistical and downright thoughtless human beings can be. You have such unparalleled capacity for... caring... yet you seem totally inept at putting it into practice.

DOCTOR: If I knew exactly what the problem was, I would have fixed it by now.

FITZ: Doesn't this TARDIS have some sort of self-diagnostic system? A "fault locator" or something?

DOCTOR: It does.

FITZ: So why not use that to tell you what's wrong?

DOCTOR: It's faulty.

KARL: I think God's favourite colour must be orange.

Anji closed her eyes for a moment. He was a fake. He looked and sounded like a man, a human male with white skin, a long, strong-jawed face and large, pale eyes. But if you touched his skin, if you held his wrist, he was the wrong temperature, he had the wrong pulse. He didn’t even have a name. She called the alien ‘Doctor’ because she didn’t know what else to call it.

Anji walked alone through the city of tigers. It was a fast walk, a bad walk, shouldering and dodging crowd. Sunlight splashing off concrete and glass, bright faces and clothes.

And on every corner, from every doorway, in every window, the music. Coming down from bedrooms, spilling out of cars and cafés, thumping and shrilling, twinkling and twanging. Opera and bossa nova, zydeco and disco, one tune crashing into another as Anji pushed and pulled her way down the street.

The Doctor led us up, into the fire that was not the fire of salvation but the sort that burns, with smoke and hurt and tortured bodies and death. He walked arm in arm with Turing, and they talked, probably about miracles and the mysteries of the universe, but I couldn’t hear them any more. And anyway, it was probably all in code.