You want to classify prime numbers now?
The Doctor: It’s a sequence of happy primes - 379
Martha Jones: Happy what?
The Doctor: Just enter it!
Riley Vashtee: Are you sure? We only get one chance.
The Doctor: Any number that reduces to one when you take the sum of the square of its digits and continue iterating it until it yields 1 is a happy number, any number that doesn’t, isn’t. A happy prime is both happy and prime. Now type it in!
[aside]
The Doctor: I dunno, talk about dumbing down. Don’t they teach recreational mathematics anymore?
“Last time I only failed by the narrowest of narrow margins.”
You what? You walked in there, wrote, “I am a fish,” four hundred times, did a funny little dance, and fainted.
Cool and discreet, honey, in the dancing frost while the thermometer registers 10 degrees fondly Fahrenheit.
This is Angry Bob, the man with the industrial dick, coming to you loud and clear on W.A.R. Radio with the good news and the bad news. Bad news is, the heatwave’s not going to let up. It’s expected to hit ninety downtown before nightfall, although Weather Control keeps promising that rain is on the way. The foul up on the launch pad at terminal eight doesn’t look like it’s gonna clear for another half hour, and holiday air traffic is still stacking up over the CBD and all outlying districts. But Traffic Control promises that if you all keep cool they’ll get you home in time for Christmas. As for the good news - there is NO fucking good news! So let’s just play some music!
Prepare ship for ludicrous speed! Fasten all seatbelts, seal all entrances and exits, close all shops in the mall, cancel the three ring circus, secure all animals in the zoo!
Helm! Warp One! Engage!
Thataway!
Mood? What has mood to do with it? You fight when the necessity arises — no matter the mood! Mood’s a thing for cattle or making love or playing the baliset. It’s not for fighting.
Okey dokey, Okey dokey. Lets fire blue particle cannons full, red particle cannons full, gannet magnets fire them left and right, and let 'em run all chutes. And while you’re at it, why don’t ya toss that at 'em killer
Take my word for it, General, this type of defense is useless against that kind of power! You’d better let Washington know, fast!
The fell energies at work upon Earth threaten to surpass even the Power Cosmic.
At Fell’s gesture, one of his bodyguards carefully picked up the transparent box.
I don’t want anyone else in there. Just you.
Andre Delambre: [about the cat killed by the transporter] She disintegrated perfectly, but never reappeared.
Helene Delambre: Where’s she gone?
Andre Delambre: Into space… a stream of cat atoms…
[sighs]
Andre Delambre: It’d be funny if life weren’t so sacred.
You are free to use any methods necessary, but I want them alive – no disintegrations!
Look, you’re putting me off, standing there. Why don’t you go back to your office and I’ll give you a knock when I finish?
Knock, knock, knock. Penny.
Knock, knock, knock. Penny.
Knock, knock, knock. Penny.
It is returning, it is returning through the dark…And then, Doctor, oh but then, he will knock four times.
Open the pod bay doors, HAL.