“He took her by the hand and led her out of the control room and into a little side room. There, amid a lot of sculpting paraphernalia, was her statue. The statue from the museum. The statue of Fortuna. New and gleaming.Rose gaped. 'But I never posed for this.''No need,' said the Doctor, patting it on the arm -- an arm which still had a hand attached.'What d'you mean?''I mean,' he explained, 'that you won't have to pose for it. As Mickey said -' the Doctor smiled to himself - 'it was sculpted by someone who knew you pretty well.'He ran a hand through his hair and looked as though he was expecting applause.Rose walked round the statue. 'Is my bum really that--''Yes,' the Doctor interrupted testily. 'This statue is accurate in every detail. Bum. Arms. Legs. Nose. Broken fingernail on your right hand.'* * *Rose stood looking at the statue for a bit longer. 'It is perfect,' she said at last.'I was inspired.'They smiled at each other. All was right with the world again.”

“He saw the statue - she shrank back as he hurried forward. And then he realized it wasn't her. Rose was taken aback. She hadn't known - how could she know - what her disappearence had done to him. This Doctor had a look of such despair in his eyes that her heart almost stopped in pity. She wanted more than anything else to go to him, tell him that everything was going to be alright. But... what with possibly ripping time and space apart, that was probably a bad idea. ”

“Ursus stepped forward. 'Watch your tongue when you speak to the goddess!' he snarled.The Doctor frowned. 'I think that would make speaking rather difficult,' he said.He stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes to look down on it. 'Therterly inghockigal.' he said.”

“Do you know what it's like," he said, "to feel that you're in the wrong body?""Well actually..." the Doctor began, wiggling his own fingers in front of his face.”

“This womens skin is shimmering and pale, her long black hair is tied with dozens of silver ribbons that fall over her shoulders. Her gown is white, covered in what to Bailey looks like looping black embroidery, but as he walks closer he sees that the black marks are actually words written across the fabric. When he is near enough to read parts of the gown, he realizes that they are love letters, inscribed in handwritten text. Words of desire and longing wrapping around her waist, flowing down the train of her gown as it spills over the platform. The statue herself is still, but her hand is held out and only then does Bailey notice the young woman with a red scarf standing in front of her, offering the love letter-clad statue a sungle crimson rose.The movement is so subtle that it is almost undetectable, but slowly, very, very slowly, the statue reaches to accept the rose.Her fingers open, and the young woman with the rose waits patiently as the statue gradually closes her hand around the stem, releasing it only when it is secure.....The statue is lifting the rose, gradually, to her face. Her eye lids slowly close.”

“A trapdoor had slammed open at the edge of the arena, followed by another and another. Slowly, reluctantly, animals were forced through the gaps. Lions, tigers, bears. "Oh my!" said the Doctor, as the trapdoors slammed shut again.”

“Sweetie,” Dino said, coming over to put his arm around her shoulder. He tipped her head up and looked into her eyes with great empathy. “You can’t fuck a statue. At least not at that angle. You’d at least have to tip it onto its back first, and as a conservator, I can’t recommend it.”