And when the guy ends up in heaven, the first thing God does is slap the everloving shit out of him.
It's not a joke. Your only duty in this lifetime is to be magnificent. Or, as John Green (possibly the most charming man in the world but definitely the best YA writer) would say: "Don't Forget To Be Awesome." That's not God's problem. And it's certainly not the Doctor's. Any second you let go by without being awesome is a second you've wasted, and you can't ever get it back.
So where's she gone, then? Where's that girl?
I can tell you these stories all night, and I probably will, but I don't think you'll believe me. Not even in that "metaphor is the lie that tells the truth" way. Not even in that "I heard the nicest story the other day" way. It's too deep. She's gone too deep. She's waiting.
I love the Sontarans, maybe even more than the Dalek. I love the Dalek because they don't stop, and I love the Sontarans because they are hardcore. They are so hardcore it's silly. But as I'm telling you this story -- a three-parter, about the Doctor's daughters -- it's interesting to think about why here, now, so close to the next one. So much about war, and soldiers, and turning people into things. Facts on the ground. You can't explain war to God, even when you're fighting in his name: he won't get it. He doesn't need to. War is a fact of life, and time, and he doesn't understand those things: he is those things. He's so terrified by Martha, and by Genny, because of what they represent. Because they represent action. He'll always love Rose because he's half a man, but he'll always love you because, I think, you don't act. You're like him, a traveler. He cheers you when you do, but I think on some level he knows you'll never be like them.
Donna, you need to be more like them. We were given our time in this world to make a difference, Doctor or no. Life, like war, is a fact. You have to grab hold of it. Less screaming, more doing. He'll never get his hands dirty because compared to us, he doesn't have hands.
When Davros sets up the comparison, then, he's wrong by being right. He says, in the end, that the Dalek are all his children, and the Companions are the Doctor's children. And they are tools, and weapons, and things. But the difference between an army and a family is choice, and love. Davros would never understand that every single one of them -- even you! -- was there by choice, because of love. That they represent a family. The kind of family that can work with the angel and tow a whole planet home. The TARDIS was built for six pilots, for a family. He's been doing all that work alone. Davros would never understand that, because he always does the work alone.