- Doctor: Ginger beer! I need ginger beer!
- Cook: This gentleman's gone mad!
- Agatha Christie: I'm an expert in poisons, Doctor, there's no cure! It's fatal!
- Doctor: Not for me! I can stimulate the inhibited enzymes into reversal! Protein! I need protein! *hyperventilates*
- Donna Noble: Walnuts!
- Doctor: Brilliant! *chugs walnuts, mimes shaking*
- Donna Noble: I can't understand you! How many words?
- Doctor: *holds up one finger*
- Donna Noble: One! Okay, one word! Shake! Milk! Milkshake! Milk! Milk! No! Not milk, um, shake! Shake! Cocktail shake! What, d'you want a Harvey Wallbanger?
- Doctor: Harvey Wallbanger?
- Donna Noble: Well, I don't know!
- Doctor: How is 'Harvey Wallbanger' one word?
- Agatha Christie: What do you need Doctor?
- Doctor: Salt! Salt! I was miming salt, I need something salty!
- Donna Noble: How 'bout this?!?!
- Doctor: What is it?
- Donna Noble: SALT!
- Doctor: No, that's too salty!
- Donna Noble (sarcastically): Oh, that's too salty.
- Agatha Christie: What about this? *hands Doctor a jar*
- Donna Noble: What's that?
- Agatha Christie: Anchovies.
- Donna Noble: What is it, what else? *Doctor mimes shock* Um, it's a song! Meh-meh? Um, I don't know! 'Camptown Races'?
- Doctor: Camptown Races?!?!
- Donna Noble: Well! All right, then! 'Towering Inferno'!
- Doctor: It's a shock, look, shock! I need a shock!
- Donna Noble: Right, then. Big shock. Coming up. *kisses Doctor, he staggers back and a grey cloud spills out of his mouth*
- Doctor: Detox. Oh! I must do that more often. *Donna glares* I mean, the, the detox.
- Agatha Christie: You are... Impossible
because his words. he is the literary love of my life and i literally cannot convey the amount of love i have for everything he’s written.
and i find a lot of comfort in just having a book with me. it’s my adult, book-worm equivalent of a baby blanket.
I kept my mind on the moon. Cold moon, long nights moon.” —Richard Siken (via harvestmoons)
I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later. And the part where I push you flush against the wall and every part of your body rubs against thebricks, shut up I’m getting to it.
You wonder what he’s thinking when he shivers like that.
What can you tell me, what could you possibly
tell me? Sure, it’s good to feel things, and if it hurts, we’re doing it
to ourselves, or so the saying goes, but there should be
a different music here. There should be just one safe place
in the world, I mean
this world. People get hurt here. People fall down and stay down and I don’t like
the way the song goes.
You, the moon. You, the road. You, the little flowers
by the side of the road. You keep singing along to that song I hate. Stop singing.” —Richard Siken, Road Music (via spontaneousfangasm)