"The human race was always your favorite, Doctor, but now there is no human race! There is only the Master Race!" Boo. All the six billion Masters laugh and point at everybody else; down in the street one of them throws a hat, and another one mysteriously catches it. That was pretty awesome.

SEVEN: A Secret, Never To Be Told

"This is perfection. I have created Heaven on Earth." Only a fake bastard God could think that was beautiful.

If the Master is the Doctor's cruelest and most Old Testament desires, bookend him with Donna: The lonely angel human half of the Doctor. The Donna (The Noble?) would've beat the shit out of Saxon.

There are two kinds of faith: stupid and smart. There's the kind of faith that keeps you in the rat race, heading for this Utopia on the highway of life, giving up all personal determination, all free will, because somebody told you one time that it's going to get awesome as long as you don't go too low, don't reach too high, don't talk too much, don't ask questions, don't disobey.

"And so it came to pass, on Christmas Day, that the human race did cease to exist. But even then, the Master had no concept of his greater role in events. For this was far more than humanity's end. This day was the day upon which the whole of creation would change forever. This was the day the Time Lords returned."