The Eleventh Doctor: Fancy a week in in ancient Mesopotamia, followed by future Mars?
Clara: Will there be cocktails?
The Eleventh Doctor: On the Moon.
Clara: Moon'll do.
The Eleventh Doctor: Kate Lethbridge-Stewart, a word to the wise. As I'm sure your father would have told you, I don't like being picked up.
Clara: That probably sounded better in his head.
Kate Stewart: What's our cover story for this?
Osgood: Umm, Derren Brown.
Kate Stewart: Again?
Osgood: Well, we sent him flowers.
The Eleventh Doctor: He was there.
Clara: Who was?
The Eleventh Doctor: Me. The other me. The one I don't talk about.
Clara: I don't understand.
The Eleventh Doctor: I've had many faces, many lives. I don't admit to all of them. There's one life I've tried very hard to forget. He was the Doctor who fought in the Time War, and that was the day he did it. The day I did it. The day he killed them all. The last day of the Time War. The war to end all wars, between my people and the Daleks. And in that battle there was a man with more blood on his hands than any other. A man who would commit a crime that would silence the universe. And that man was me.
Rose Tyler: Now, look at you, stuck between a box and a girl. Story of your life, hey, Doctor?
The War Doctor: You know me?
Rose Tyler: I hear you. All of you. Jangling around in that dusty old head of yours. I chose this face and form especially for you. it's from your past. Or your future. I always get those two mixed up.
The War Doctor: I don't have a future.
The War Doctor: If you have been inside my head, then you know what I've seen. Suffering. Every moment in time and space is burning. It must end. I intend to end it the only way I can.
The Tenth Doctor: Ah, got ya!
Elizabeth I: My love?
The Tenth Doctor: One: the real Elizabeth would never have accepted my marriage proposal. Two: the real Elizabeth would notice when I just casually mentioned having a different face. But then, the real Elizabeth isn't a shapeshifting alien from outer space. And... (takes out device that goes "ding") Ding.
Elizabeth I: What's that?
The Tenth Doctor: It's a machine that goes "ding."
The Tenth Doctor: You're a Zygon.
Elizabeth I: A Zygon?
The Tenth Doctor: Oh, stop it, it's over. A Zygon, yes. Big red rubbery thing, covered in suckers. Surprisingly good kisser.
The Tenth Doctor: Run!
Elizabeth I: What's happening?
The Tenth Doctor: We're being attacked by a shapeshifting alien from outer space formerly disguised as my horse.
Elizabeth I: But what does that mean?
The Tenth Doctor: It means... we're going to need a new horse.
The Tenth Doctor: Oh, very clever. Whatever you've got planned, forget it. I'm the Doctor. I'm nine hundred and four years old. I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous. I am the Oncoming Storm, the Bringer of Darkness, and you are... basically a rabbit, aren't you? Okay, just carry on. A general warning.
The Eleventh Doctor: Stone dust.
Kate Stewart: Is it important?
The Eleventh Doctor: In twelve hundred years, I've never stepped in anything that wasn't.
The Eleventh Doctor: Oy, you! Are you sciency?
Osgood: Oh, uh, yes.
The Eleventh Doctor: Got a name?
The Eleventh Doctor: Good, I've always wanted to meet someone called Yes.
Clara: Someday you could just walk past a fez.
The Eleventh Doctor: Never going to happen.
The Tenth Doctor: Compensating.
The Eleventh Doctor: For what?
The Tenth Doctor: Regeneration, it's a lottery.
The Eleventh Doctor: Oh, he's cool. Isn't he cool? I'm the Doctor and I'm all cool. Oops, I'm wearing sand shoes.
The Eleventh Doctor: It's not working.
The Tenth Doctor: We're both reversing the polarity.
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes, I know that.
The Tenth Doctor: There's two of us. I'm reversing the polarity, you're reversing it back again. We're confusing the polarity.
The War Doctor: You're me? Both of you?
The Tenth Doctor: Yup.
The War Doctor: Even that one?
The Eleventh Doctor: Yes!
The War Doctor: You're my... future selves?
Tenth and Eleventh Doctors: Yes!
The War Doctor: Am I having a mid-life crisis? Why are you pointing your screwdrivers like that? They're scientific instruments, not water pistols.
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.