The prophecies of old foretold a war across the stars.

The cosmos torn asunder. Every planet left with scars.

From Skaro to Kasterborous, and Villengard as well —

Some know it as the Time War, but the Time Lords call it Hell.

The seven deaths of Davros, and the slaughter of Skull Moon.

The Neverwhen, the Never-weres, the Never-Gone-Too-Soon.

The war raged on for eons, and it’s only just begun,

Fragmenting space and causing time itself to be undone.

Until a man is born upon the barren sands of Karn,

Until that man confronts himself twice over, in a barn.

Until the Daleks breach the second city, and it falls.

Until that man engraves the words “No More” into the walls.

I am that man, and I will take this Moment to avow:

If once there was a Doctor, there is not a Doctor now.

DOCTOR: So a hotel, but instead of rooms, time portals, yeah?

TREV: Yeah.

DOCTOR: Oh! Oh! That stone door up there, that is actual stone, live from the Stone Age. God... Live from a submarine. Mesopotamia. (a leaning door) Oh, come on, got to be Pisa.

TREV: Yeah, Pisa.

DOCTOR: Ha! (looking at leaflet) Ancient Rome, the fall of Troy, your favourite assassination. Package deals for all of history's biggest hits. No wonder there was no room at the inn.

DOCTOR: I mean, basically the code came from nowhere, but then so did the universe, and no-one complains about that.

MEL: Is this thing safe?

DOCTOR: Absolute deathtrap, Melanie B.

CHERRY: I've given up on that cuppa and opted for a life of abstinence.

DOCTOR: I know these teeth. What? What? What?!

Chemistry was the one and only subject that the girl [Ace] actually wanted to understand, to study. Not for any stupid exam, but because of the fact that two substances could change into something else entirely when you put them together fascinated her. Everything in the whole universe, she discovered, was made up of tiny, tiny particles: atoms and molecules. Just little dots. When you broke everything down to its basic components, there was really not much there except space. That made her feel safe, somehow.

He [The Doctor] thinks I take him where he wants to go. But. I'll let you into a secret, shall I?

I take him where he needs to be. Which is sometimes also where he wants to be. But not always.

London 1965, for instance. I could have got there in a second. If only he'd asked nicely. If only he hadn't been having fun. If only he hadn't been learning a lesson. About who he really needed to be, not who he wanted to be. But there we go – the old man had run away from his people intent on being a wanderer and never interfering. Instead those two schoolteachers taught him more about himself than he'd have learned in a thousand years of walking alone in eternity.

It was one of the Doctor’s favourite details about the universe outside Gallifrey, as well as one of the things he found most confusing. Time travel was, to Time Lords, about as exciting as the postal service. It was mostly cheap, mostly reliable, and everyone used it. Yes, sometimes it took an awfully long time to get to the desired destination, and sometimes things went spectacularly wrong but, all in all, it was just a thing that happened, and you were a bit weird if you talked about it too much, particularly at parties. Non-Gallifreyans, however, genuinely believed time travel was magic, while ignoring the far more impressive inventions of their own cultures. Such as, for example, a delivery system where one paid a pound to have a folded piece of paper inside another folded piece of paper taken from Bingley to Guam.

DOCTOR: Cos sometimes this team structure isn't flat. It's mountainous, with me at the summit in the stratosphere, alone, left to choose.

'My people constructed huge bowships that could fire massive stakes made of incorruptible metal through the enormous black hearts of these creatures. The mistake we made, because fundamentally my people are very lazy, was making these bowships intelligent.

'Intelligent?' repeated MacFarlane. 'Is that even possible?'

'Everything is possible in an infinite universe. But yes, artificial intelligence is a thing. Not necessarily a good thing, though as we found. Some of the bowships refused to cooperate, and some went rogue. Some unionized, and refused to attack any Great Vampires without adequate compensation and guarantees of survival. And some developed ways of dealing with the Great Vampires that we hadn't anticipated. That, I'm afraid, is what we're dealing with here.'

DOCTOR: It's always premature to declare victory. There's always someone or something to carry on the fight.

"He wished he could believe that the Doctor knew exactly what he was doing, but he was beginning to suspect that the fellow just did whatever occurred to him, whenever it happened to occur."

I knew that the Doctor would never really let me come to real harm. Although as we approached the very depths of Rotten Cobs, I couldn't help remembering all the terrible times when he had let really awful things happen to me. In Chroma, for instance. And Paris. And that moon with all the robots, and all kinds of places. It wasn't quite true that he was there to whisk me out of peril. Sometimes Mrs. Wibbsey has to come to her own rescue.

DOCTOR: Where were we? We need as much intel as we can get. If we're going to protect Rosa, we need to know the facts of her life. Home address, daily routine, where she works, the routes she takes, and the church she attends. Also, the name of the driver she refused.

GRAHAM: I know that. It's James Blake.

RYAN: How do you know that?

GRAHAM: Well, your Nan, when she found out I was a bus driver, said to me, you'd better not be like James Blake. Blake the snake, that's what she called him. And I had to ask her who he was and she just said he gave all bus drivers a bad name.

YASMIN: She said that when you'd only just met?

GRAHAM: Yeah.

'Then why bring me back here!' Caxton asked. His voice was desperate, pleading. 'Why bring me back here if I'm not supposed to stop it! Does someone hate me that much?'

'Time doesn't hate.' I said. 'It doesn't think, or feel, or care. Time is implacable, immovable, unchangeable, and eternal. It isn't cruel, or kind. It just is.'

(Add Thomas Caxton Tag?)

"I stood in the console room, my hands hovering over the door control. A part of me wanted to run, to go and find something wonderful and incredible and fun to see. To remind myself of the wonders of history, rather than the horrors. But the turbulence in the time vortex around the war had grown too great to ignore. 'Somebody has to do something about it.' I said to myself as I opened the doors. 'I can't keep putting it off forever'. So I stepped out of the TARDIS into the last days of the First World War."

[On the First Doctor]

"I soon found myself distracted by the Doctor. He was sat in a chair beside a large, blue box that looked very out of place in the trench. It had the words 'Police Public Call Box' written across the top above the doors. But neither the chair nor the box seemed as out of place as the man himself. His hair was white, his face lined with age. He was clearly too old for service, but there was something more to him than that. Somehow, he seemed to be the antithesis of the war itself, an incarnation of absolute peace, as forceful as the total war waging in the world around him.

There had been an ugly period when they [the Tenth and Eleventh Doctors] discovered a VHS tape of the movie Daleks: Invasion Earth and had insisted on watching it. They nearly derailed the negotiations by shouting, cheering, and joining in, and they had spent the next hour calling each other Dr. Who and talking like Peter Cushing.

I have no idea how long I stood there. An hour perhaps. Or a minute, or a day. Time takes on a different meaning when it is measured in the heartbeats of the billions you are about to destroy.

DOCTOR: I offer you all the wisdom of the Lords of Time at your fingertips and all you want is better fishing.

DOCTOR: Never be cruel. Never be cowardly. Hate is always foolish. Love is always wise. Always try to be nice, but never fail to be kind.

DOCTOR: I’m looking for my granddaughter. She attends this school…

SHIVANI: What’s her name?

DOCTOR: Susan.

SHIVANI: We have quite a few Susans. What year is she in?

DOCTOR: 1963, madam. The same as you and I and everybody...

SHIVANI: No. I meant… How old is she?

DOCTOR: Ah. She is 73 years old.

SHIVANI: Are you…

DOCTOR: Worried? Of course! She mustn’t try to walk home through that!

SHIVANI: You know, when I first met you… I thought you were strange. The way you answered my

questions. The way you look. I was a bit frightened of you.

DOCTOR: Ah. The curse of the immigrant.

SHIVANI: Me?

DOCTOR: Me.