After a while it sort of began to rain, which is to say that it was the kind of rain that never comes to a decision about whether it's actually raining or not. Driving in it, you would never have been certain whether or not to turn on your wipers.

Never trust the storyteller. Only trust the story.

The Time Lords really didn't like genocide. I'm not too keen on it myself. It's the potential you're killing off. What if, one day, there was a good Dalek? What if...

So you used to know everything?" She wrinkled her nose. "Everybody did. I told you. It's nothing special, knowing how things work. And you really do have to give it all up if you want to play." "To play what?" "This," she said. She waved at the house and the sky and the impossible full moon and the skeins and the shawls and clusters of bright stars.

The only advice I can give you is what you're telling yourself. Only, maybe you're too scared to listen.

I believe that anyone who claims to know what's going on will lie about the little things too.

Sometimes I suspect that we build our traps ourselves, then we back into them, pretending amazement the while.