02 April 2014

Quotes from "The Day of the Doctor" (Part 2)

The War Doctor: Oh, the pointing again. They're screwdrivers, what are you going to do, assemble a cabinet at them?
The Eleventh Doctor: It's a, a, timey-wimey thing.
The War Doctor: Timey-wimey what? "Timey-wimey"?
The Tenth Doctor: I've--I've no idea where he picks that stuff up.

The War Doctor: Are you capable of speaking without flapping your hands out?
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes. (flaps his hands) No. I demand to be incarcerated in the Tower immediately with my co-conspirators, Sand Shoes and Granddad.
The War Doctor: "Granddad"?
The Tenth Doctor: They're not sand shoes.
The War Doctor: Yes, they are.

Kate Stewart: No one can know we have this, even our allies.
Clara: Why not?
Kate Stewart: Think about it. Americans with the ability to rewrite history. You've seen their movies.

The War Doctor: I don't know who you are. Either of you. I haven't got the faintest idea.
Rose Tyler: They're you. They're what you become if you destroy Gallifrey. The man who regrets and the man who forgets. The Moment is coming. The Moment is me, you have to decide.

(as Elizabeth I kisses the Tenth Doctor) 
The War Doctor: Is there a lot of this in the future?
The Eleventh Doctor: It does start to happen, yeah.

(in the TARDIS) 
The Eleventh Doctor: Look. The round things.
The Tenth Doctor: I love the round things.
The Eleventh Doctor: What are the round things?
The Tenth Doctor: No idea.

(seeing the new TARDIS interior) 
The Tenth Doctor: Oh, you've redecorated. I don't like it.
The Eleventh Doctor: Oh. Oh, yeah, you never do.

Rose Tyler: You've seen the men you will become.
The War Doctor: Those men... extraordinary.
Rose Tyler: They were you.
The War Doctor: No. They are the Doctor.
Rose Tyler: You're the Doctor, too.
The War Doctor: No. Great men are forged in fire. it is the privilege of lesser men to light the flame. Whatever the cost.
Rose Tyler: You know the sound the TARDIS makes? That wheezing groaning? That sound brings hope wherever it goes.
The War Doctor: Yes. Yes, I like to think it does.
Rose Tyler: To anyone who hears it. Anyone, however lost. Even you.

The Eleventh Doctor: There isn't another way, there never was. Either I destroy my own people or let the universe burn.
Clara: Look at you. The three of you, the warrior, the hero... and you.
The Eleventh Doctor: And what am I?
Clara: Have you really forgotten?
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes. Maybe, yes.
Clara: We've got enough warriors. Any old idiot can be a hero.
The Eleventh Doctor: Then what do I do?
Clara: What you've always done. Be a doctor. You told me the name you chose was a promise. What was the promise?
The Tenth Doctor: Never cruel or cowardly.
The War Doctor: Never give up. Never give in.

The General: Do it, Doctor. Just do it. Do it.
The Eleventh Doctor: Okay. Gentlemen, we're ready. Geronimo!
The Tenth Doctor: Allon-sy!
The War Doctor: For god's sake. Gallifrey stands!

The War Doctor: I don't suppose we'll ever know if we actually succeeded. But at worse, we failed doing the right thing. As opposed to succeeding in doing the wrong.
Clara: Life and soul, you are.

(starting to regenerate)
The War Doctor: Yes, of course. Suppose it makes sense. Wearing a bit thin. I hope the ears are a bit less inconspicuous this time.

The Eleventh Doctor: I could be a curator. I'd be great at curating, I'd be the Great Curator. I could retire and do that. I could retire and be the curator of this place.

The Curator: And now you must excuse me. Oh, you have a lot to do.
The Eleventh Doctor: Do I?
The Curator: Umm.
The Eleventh Doctor: Is that what I'm supposed to do now? Go looking for Gallifrey?
The Curator: It's entirely up to you. Your choice, eh? I can only tell you what I would do. If I were you, oh, if I were you... Perhaps I was you, of course. Or perhaps, you are me.
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes.
The Curator: Congratulations.
The Eleventh Doctor: Thank you very much.
The Curator: Or perhaps it doesn't matter either way. Who knows? Who knows.

The Eleventh Doctor: Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. Of course I dream, I tell her. Everybody dreams. "But what do you dream about?" she'll ask. "Same thing everybody dreams about," I tell her. I dream about where I'm going. She always laughs at that. "But you're not going anywhere, you're wandering about." That's not true, not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone's. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes. But at last I know where I'm going. Where I've always been going. Home. The long way around.

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