Quotes about skull
page 2

Charles Stross photo

“A dark-skinned human with four arms walks toward me across the floor of the club, clad only in a belt strung with human skulls.”

Source: Glasshouse (2006), Chapter 1, “Duel” (p. 1; opening line)

Richard Francis Burton photo
Federico García Lorca photo

“Black are the horses.
The horseshoes are black.
On the dark capes glisten
stains of ink and wax.
Their skulls are leaden,
which is why they do not weep.
With their patent leather souls
they come down the street.”

Federico García Lorca (1898–1936) Spanish poet, dramatist and theatre director

Los caballos negros son.
Las herraduras son negras.
Sobre las capas relucen
manchas de tinta y de cera.
Tienen, por eso no lloran,
de plomo las calaveras.
Con el alma de charol
vienen por la carretera.
" Romance de la Guardia Civil Española http://www.poesia-inter.net/index214.htm" from Primer Romancero Gitano (1928)

Michael Chabon photo
Tim Powers photo

“Your skull in gold will be more valuable than others, being solid all through.”

Source: Declare (2001), Chapter 12 (p. 345)

Gregory Scott Paul photo
Russell Brand photo

“That diamond encrusted goat's skull is the height of good taste!”

Russell Brand (1975) British comedian, actor, and author

Radio 2 Show (2007–2008)

Algis Budrys photo

“You look like any other brainless jackanapes,” he mused, “but apparently there’s some gray matter left in your artfully coiffed skull after all.”

Algis Budrys (1931–2008) American writer

The End of Summer, p. 22
The Unexpected Dimension (1960)

Charles Kettering photo

“Why is the human skull as dense as it is? Nowadays we can send a message around the world in one-seventh of a second, but it takes years to drive an idea through a quarter-inch of human skull.”

Charles Kettering (1876–1958) American inventor, engineer, businessman, and the holder of 140 patents

As quoted in Boss Ket (1961) by Rosamond McPherson Young p. 194

Philip Pullman photo
Edsger W. Dijkstra photo

“The competent programmer is fully aware of the strictly limited size of his own skull; therefore he approaches the programming task in full humility, and among other things he avoids clever tricks like the plague.”

Edsger W. Dijkstra (1930–2002) Dutch computer scientist

Dijkstra (1972) The Humble Programmer http://www.cs.utexas.edu/users/EWD/transcriptions/EWD03xx/EWD340.html (EWD340).
1970s

Adolf Eichmann photo

“[E]ven if you do know about art, you can’t talk about it socially… Damien Hirst’s shark was a common talking point for a time, and so will the diamond skull be: for a little more time, perhaps, but not forever. The Botticelli paintings are forever because they aren’t talking points.”

Clive James (1939–2019) Australian author, critic, broadcaster, poet, translator and memoirist

'Reflections on a Diamond Skull', on corporate art
Television and radio, Radio 4: A Point of View

Roger Manganelli photo
William H. Macy photo

“To see your own visage up there, it's terrifying. I have to see a film twice, the first time just to get over the shock: the fact that my face seems to be dripping off my skull into my chest.”

William H. Macy (1950) American actor, screenwriter, teacher and director in theater, film and television

Interview in The Guardian (2011)

Ernst Kaltenbrunner photo

“Where do you think I was today? I stood straight in front of him (Himmler) for a whole hour and talked, and he… he played with a puzzle the whole time – you know, this glass cube with three balls on the inside… When I finished, he took off his pince-nez, wiped it with a handkerchief – he has a skull even on his handkerchief – and said, "Listen, Ernst! Have you by any chance, ever had a dream, where you're riding in the back of a ragged truck to who knows where, and some monsters are sitting around you?" I didn’t say anything. Then he smiled and said, "Ernst, you know, I know as well as you that no astral exists. But what do you think, if you, and even Canaris, have your own people in 'Annenerbe', shouldn’t I have my own people there as well?" I did not understand what he meant. "Think Ernst, think!" he said. I kept silent. Then he smiled and asked, "Whose man do you think is Kröger?" …Yes, Emma… It seems I'm too simple for all these intrigues… But I know that while the Führer needs me, my heart will keep beating… You know, Emma… Sometimes it seems to me, that it's not me who is alive, but it's the Führer who is living inside me…”

Ernst Kaltenbrunner (1903–1946) Austrian-born senior official of Nazi Germany executed for war crimes

To Emma, recorded by secret spy listening device WS-M/13 located in Kaltenbrunner's bedroom, 1/14/1935. Quoted in "Kröger's Revelation" - by Viktor Pelevin - 1991 - Page 277

Ian McCulloch photo
Robert Southey photo

“'Tis some poor fellow's skull," said he,
"Who fell in the great victory.”

Robert Southey (1774–1843) British poet

St. 3.
The Battle of Blenheim http://www.poetry-archive.com/s/the_battle_of_blenheim.html (1798)

Hafez al-Assad photo

“Strike the enemy’s settlements, turn them into dust, pave the Arab roads with the skulls of Jews.”

Hafez al-Assad (1930–2000) former president of Syria

Michael B. Oren, Six Days of War [Oxford University Press, 2002], p293

Samuel Butler (poet) photo

“And weave fine cobwebs, fit for skull
That's empty when the moon is full;
Such as take lodgings in a head
That's to be let unfurnished.”

Samuel Butler (poet) (1612–1680) poet and satirist

Canto I, line 159
Source: Hudibras, Part I (1663–1664)

Gregory Scott Paul photo
Lou Reed photo

“The Rally Man's patter ran on through the dawn
Until we said so long to his skull
Shrill yell.”

Lou Reed (1942–2013) American musician

Black Angel's Death Song
Lyrics

John Fante photo
Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis photo
Jack Kerouac photo
George Bird Evans photo
Alec Douglas-Home photo

“Douglas-Home: Can you not make me look better than I do on television? I look rather scraggy, like a ghost.
Make-up girl: No.
Douglas-Home: Why not?
Make-up girl: Because you have a head like a skull.
Douglas-Home: Doesn't everyone have a head like a skull?
Make-up girl: No.”

Alec Douglas-Home (1903–1995) Former Prime Minister of the United Kingdom

Michael Cockerell, "Live from Number 10", p. 105.
A story told by Douglas-Home about going on television in the 1964 election.
Attributed

“Melancholy sees the worst of things,—things as they may be, and not as they are. It looks upon a beautiful face, and sees but a grinning skull.”

Christian Nestell Bovee (1820–1904) American writer

Source: Intuitions and Summaries of Thought (1862), Volume II, p. 52.

Firuz Shah Tughlaq photo
Arundhati Roy photo

“He is Karna, whom the world has abandoned. Karna Alone. Condemned goods. A prince raised in poverty. Born to die unfairly, unarmed and alone at the hands of his brother. Majestic in his complete despair. Praying on the banks of the Ganga. Stoned out of his skull.
Then Kunti appeared. She too was a man, but a man grown soft and womanly, a man with breasts, from doing female parts for years. Her movements were fluid. Full of women. Kunti, too, was stoned. High on the same shared joints. She had come to tell Karna a story.
Karna inclined his beautiful head and listened.
Red-eyed, Kunti danced for him. She told him of a young woman who had been granted a boon. A secret mantra that she could use to choose a lover from among the gods. Of how, with the imprudence of youth, the woman decided to test it to see if it really worked. How she stood alone in an empty field, turned her face to the heavens and recited the mantra. The words had scarcely left her foolish lips, Kunti said, when Surya, the God of Day, appeared before her. The young woman, bewitched by the beauty of the shimmering young god, gave herself to him. Nine months later she bore him a son. The baby was born sheathed in light, with gold earrings in his ears and a gold breastplate on his chest, engraved with the emblem of the sun.
The young mother loved her first-born son deeply, Kunti said, but she was unmarried and couldn't keep him. She put him in a reed basket and cast him away in a river. The child was found downriver by Adhirata, a charioteer. And named Karna.
Karna looked up to Kunti. Who was she? Who was my mother? Tell me where she is. Take me to her.
Kunti bowed her head. She's here, she said. Standing before you.
Karna's elation and anger at the revelation. His dance of confusion and despair. Where were you, he asked her, when I needed you the most? Did you ever hold me in your arms? Did you feed me? Did you ever look for me? Did you wonder where I might be?
In reply Kunti took the regal face in her hands, green the face, red the eyes, and kissed him on his brow. Karna shuddered in delight. A warrior reduced to infancy. The ecstasy of that kiss. He dispatched it to the ends of his body. To his toes. His fingertips. His lovely mother's kiss. Did you know how much I missed you? Rahel could see it coursing through his veins, as clearly as an egg travelling down an ostrich's neck.
A travelling kiss whose journey was cut short by dismay when Karna realised that his mother had revealed herself to him only to secure the safety of her five other, more beloved sons - the Pandavas - poised on the brink of their epic battle with their one hundred cousins. It is them that Kunti sought to protect by announcing to Karna that she was his mother. She had a promise to extract.
She invoked the Love Laws.”

pages 232-233.
The God of Small Things (1997)

James K. Morrow photo

“My own preliminary diagnosis is that I am out of my skull and getting farther from its vicinity every day.”

James K. Morrow (1947) (1947-) science fiction author

"Diary of a Mad Deity" p. 191 (originally published in Synergy: New Science Fiction, Number 2, edited by George Zebrowski)
Short fiction, Bible Stories for Adults (1996)

Charlie Brooker photo
T.S. Eliot photo

“Webster was much possessed by death
And saw the skull beneath the skin”

"Whispers of Immortality"
Poems (1920)

Charles Stross photo
August Strindberg photo
John Fante photo
Max Müller photo
Bernard Cornwell photo

“And the good news is that you've got a brain. You do! Honest! I saw it with my own eyes, thus disproving the navy's stubborn contention that soldiers have nothing whatsoever inside their skulls. I shall write a paper for the Review.”

Bernard Cornwell (1944) British writer

I'll be famous! Brain discovered in a soldier.
Doctor Jethro McCann, to Captain Richard Sharpe, after sewing up a severe head wound, p. 78
Sharpe (Novel Series), Sharpe's Fury (2006)

Allen Ginsberg photo

“I could issue manifestos summoning seraphim to revolt against the Haavenly State we're in, or trumpets to summon American mankind to rebellion against the Authority which has frozen all skulls in the cold war, That is, I could, make sense, invoke politics and try organize a union of opinion about what to do to Cuba, China, Russia, Bolivia, New Jersey, etc. However since in America the folks are convinced their heaven is all right, those manifestos make no dent except in giving authority & courage to the small band of hipsters who are disaffected like gentle socialists. Meanwhile the masses the proletariat the people are smug and the source of the great Wrong. So the means then is to communicate to the grand majority- and say I or anybody did write a balanced documented account not only of the lives of America but the basic theoretical split from the human body as Reich has done- But the people are so entrenched in their present livelihood that all the facts in the world-such as that China will be 1/4 of world pop makes no impression at all as a national political fact that intelligent people can take counsel on and deal with humorously & with magnificence. So that my task as a politician is to dynamite the emotional rockbed of inertia and spiritual deadness that hangs over the cities and makes everybody unconsciously afraid of the cops- To enter the Soul on a personal level and shake the emotion with the Image of some giant reality-of any kind however irrelevant to transient political issue- to touch & wake the soul again- That soul which is asleep or hidden in armor or unable to manifest itself as free life of God on earth- To remind by chord of deep groan of the Unknown to most Soul- then further politics will take place when people seize power over their universe and end the long dependence on an external authority or rhetorical set sociable emotions-so fixed they don't admit basic personal life changes-like not being afraid of jails and penury, while wandering thru gardens in high civilization.”

Allen Ginsberg (1926–1997) American poet

Gordon Ball (1977), Journals: Early Fifties Early Sixties, Grove Press NY
Journals: Early Fifties Early Sixties

William S. Burroughs photo

“But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eyes on the end of a stalk.”

Ordinary Men and Women
Naked Lunch (1959)
Context: Benway: Did I ever tell you about the man who taught his asshole to talk? His whole abdomen would move up and down you dig farting out the words. It was unlike anything I ever heard. This ass talk had sort of a gut frequency. It hit you right down there like you gotta go. You know when the old colon gives you the elbow and it feels sorta cold inside, and you know all you have to do is turn loose? Well this talking hit you right down there, a bubbly, thick stagnant sound, a sound you could smell. This man worked for a carnival you dig, and to start with it was like a novelty ventriliquist act. Real funny, too, at first. He had a number he called “The Better ‘Ole” that was a scream, I tell you. I forget most of it but it was clever. Like, “Oh I say, are you still down there, old thing?” “Nah I had to go relieve myself.” After a while the ass start talking on its own. He would go in without anything prepared and his ass would ad-lib and toss the gags back at him every time. Then it developed sort of teeth-like little raspy in-curving hooks and started eating. He thought this was cute at first and built an act around it, but the asshole would eat its way through his pants and start talking on the street, shouting out it wanted equal rights. It would get drunk, too, and have crying jags nobody loved it and it wanted to be kissed same as any other mouth. Finally it talked all the time day and night, you could hear him for blocks screaming at it to shut up, and beating it with his fist, and sticking candles up it, but nothing did any good and the asshole said to him: “It’s you who will shut up in the end. Not me. Because we don't need you around here any more. I can talk and eat and shit.” After that he began waking up in the morning with a transparent jelly like a tadpole’s tail all over his mouth. This jelly was what the scientists call un-D. T., Undifferentiated Tissue, which can grow into any kind of flesh on the human body. He would tear it off his mouth and the pieces would stick to his hands like burning gasoline jelly and grow there, grow anywhere on him a glob of it fell. So finally his mouth sealed over, and the whole head would have have amputated spontaneous — (did you know there is a condition occurs in parts of Africa and only among Negroes where the little toe amputates spontaneously?) — except for the eyes you dig. That's one thing the asshole couldn’t do was see. It needed the eyes. But nerve connections were blocked and infiltrated and atrophied so the brain couldn’t give orders any more. It was trapped in the skull, sealed off. For a while you could see the silent, helpless suffering of the brain behind the eyes, then finally the brain must have died, because the eyes went out, and there was no more feeling in them than a crab’s eyes on the end of a stalk.

P. J. O'Rourke photo
Kim Stanley Robinson photo

“Consciousness is solitary. Each person lives in that bubble universe that rests under the skull, alone.”

Source: Galileo's Dream (2009), Ch. 13, p. 280
Context: We all have seven secret lives. The life of excretion; the world of inappropriate sexual fantasies; our real hopes; our terror of death; our experience of shame; the world of pain; and our dreams. No one ever knows these lives. Consciousness is solitary. Each person lives in that bubble universe that rests under the skull, alone.

“Men have been killing each other for centuries without need to blame skulls or relics.”

Rigante series, Stormrider
Context: We don’t have time for theological debates, or philosophical discussion on the nature of evil,’ he said. ‘Men have been killing each other for centuries without need to blame skulls or relics.

Antonie Pannekoek photo
Alex Jones photo

“Do you know what goes on at Skull & Bones? I have a family audience, so I can’t say it. They have sexual rituals– some of the most ancient Egyptian rituals– where they believe they are possessed by entities. Basically, space aliens.”

Alex Jones (1974) American radio host, author, conspiracy theorist and filmmaker

"John Kerry had sex in coffins hundreds of times in Satanic ritual" https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=135&v=5aeLkXDvO-g, September 2013
2013

Imru' al-Qais photo
Alastair Reynolds photo

“I very much lament for what has happened to the groves in Madhura. The coconut trees have all been cut and in their place are to be seen rows of iron spikes with human skulls dangling at the points.”

Gangadevi Indian princess and Sanskrit poetess

Source: Gangadevi. On the condition of Madurai under the Muslim rule. Chattopadhyaya, Brajadulal (2006), Studying Early India: Archaeology, Texts and Historical Issues, Anthem Press, ISBN 978-1-84331-132-4

Jack Vance photo

“The royal children have skulls of granite, it’s true, but they come by that honestly.”

Jim C. Hines (1974) American writer

Source: The Goblin Quest Series, Goblin War (2008), Chapter 2 (p. 51)