The Doctor: There we go—universal roaming. Never have to worry about signal again.
Martha: No way! This is too mad. You're telling me I can phone anyone, anywhere in space and time on my mobile?
The Doctor: As long as you know the area code.

The Doctor: Forty-two minutes until what?
Cath: Forty-two minutes until we crash into the sun.

The Doctor: You're a long way from home, Martha. Half a universe away.
Martha: Yeah. Feels it.
The Doctor: And you're still using energy scoops for fusion. Hasn't that been outlawed yet?
Martha: We're due to upgrade next docking.

We've got no engines, no time and no chance.
The Doctor: Oh listen to you! Defeated before you've even started. Where's your Dunkirk spirit?

The Doctor: Stasis chamber. I do love a good stasis chamber.

Riley: We only get one chance per door. Get it wrong, the whole system freezes.
Martha: Better not get it wrong then.

The Doctor: A happy prime is a number that's both happy and prime. Now type it in! to Cath I don't know, talk about dumbing down. Don't they teach recreational mathematics anymore?

The Doctor: Martha, be careful. There may be something else onboard the ship.
Martha: Anytime you want to unnerve me, feel free.
The Doctor: Will do, thanks.

Martha: I can't believe our lives depend on some stupid pub quiz.

The Doctor distracted by the Beatles question: Now where was I? Here comes the sun? No. Resources!

What is this, pub quiz?
Martha: Yeah, pub quiz.
Using your mobile is cheating.

Riley: The wonderful world of space travel. The prettier it looks, the more likely it is to kill you.

The Doctor: Humans! You grab whatever's nearest and bleed it dry. You should have scanned!
Cath: It takes too long. We'd be caught. Fusion scoops are illegal.

Martha: What's your favorite color?
Riley: You all right?
Martha: It's the question!
Riley: Purple. Or did I say orange?
Martha: C'mon!

This is never your ship.
The Doctor: Compact, eh? And another good word: robust. Barely a scorch mark on 'er.

Martha to Riley: It was nice... not dying with you.