Father:
He eats through a tube. And whatever comes in through a tube has to go out through a tube. He is the armless, legless wonder of the twentieth century. And yet, by God, he's just as alive as you and me.
Joe:
Inside me I'm screaming, nobody pays any attention. If I had arms, I could kill myself. If I had legs, I could run away. If I had a voice, I could talk and be some kind of company for myself. I could yell for help, but nobody would help me.
Joe:
I don't know whether I'm alive and dreaming or dead and remembering.
Joe:
When it comes my turn, will you want me to go?
Father:
For democracy, any man would give his only begotten son.
Joe:
There's a game out there, and the stakes are high. And the guy who runs it figures the averages all day long and all night long. Once in a while he lets you steal a pot. But if you stay in the game long enough, you've got to lose. And once you've lost there's no way back, no way at all.
[
last lines]
Joe:
S.O.S. Help me.
Third Doctor:
It's Morse Code.
Corporal Timlon:
For What?
Third Doctor:
S.O.S. Help.
Father:
Put your arms around me. I need to feel their warmth, to keep the chill of death away.
Hospital Offical:
He won't wait for an answer. All he says is, "Kill me, kill me, kill me."
Third Doctor:
Don't you have some message for him, Padre?
[
Priest shakes his head and looks to the floor]
Third Doctor:
You could at least tell him to put his faith in God, couldn't you?
Priest:
I'll pray for him for the rest of my days. But I will not risk testing his faith against your stupidity.
Third Doctor:
Well you're a hell of a priest, aren't you?
Priest:
He's the product of your profession, not mine.
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