Hello. Are you ready for the story?

The irony is not lost to Him—for all his far-flung optimism, all His do-good feelings, the evil and the destroyers, his enemies at heart, are building little blocks made of bone and flesh around Him in hopes to save galaxies and races and billions upon billions of lives—protect all of known existence from Him. For all the bad He’s gone about unraveling, for every life He’s stowed away from Death, there is a matching soul that withered and burned before his good intentions. He holds Optimism’s hand in one palm, and Reality’s in the other.  

lights will guide you home
and ignite your bones
and i will try to fix you

Moriarty would make a great Master, I believe.

‘my doctor’

“Oi, Spaceman, I said I wanted to stay with you forever, and you turned me into an amnesia patient! The least you could do is get rid of the bow tie. And let’s stop by the Planet of the Hats, or the Galaxy of the Headpieces - whichever. Surely they’ve got something better than that fez, plus I think I’d look pretty good with a tiara, thank you. Oh, but let’s eat something first. Maybe the Ood can recommend the Universe’s best spaghetti place? Gosh, you’re skinny again! Have you ever had any body weight? All right, Allons - err, whatever it is.”

Doctor: Oh, and here they come. The human race. The end comes - as it was always going to - down a video phone.
Amy: This isn’t real, is it, this is some kind of big wind-up…
Doctor: Why would I wind you up?
Amy: You told me you had a time machine:
Doctor: And you believed me.
Amy: Then I grew up.
Doctor: Oh, you never wanna do that. No! Hang on, shut up! I missed it, I saw it, and I missed it! What did I see? I saw, what did I see?