Quotes About Skull

Maybe I am becoming a hermit, opening the door for only a few special animals? Maybe my skull is too crowded and it has no opening through which to feed it soup?

In literature and in art, alike, this gloomy fashion of regarding Death has been characteristic of Christianity. Death has been painted as a skeleton grasping a scythe, a grinning skull, a threatening figure with terrible face and uplifted dart, a bony scarecrow shaking an hour-glass--all that could alarm and repel has been gathered round this rightly-named King of Terrors.

The modern hero is the outsider. His experience is rootless. He can go anywhere. He belongs nowhere. Being alien to nothing, he ends up being alienated from any type of community based on common tastes and interests. The borders of his country are the sides of his skull.

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

It was as if the door to an asylum had been flung open inside his skull, allowing a wave of incoherent screams, individual cries, and desperate fragmented phrases into his mind.

They dance between their arclamps and our skull,Impose their shots, throwing the nights away.We watch the show of shadows kiss or kill,Flavoured of celluloid give love the lie.

A place called Golgotha, that is to say, a place of a skull.

The brain is locked in total darkness, of course, children, says the voice. It floats in a clear liquid inside the skull, never in the light. And yet the world it constructs in the mind is full of light.

The brain is locked in total darkness, of course, children, says the voice. It floats in a clear liquid inside the skull, never in the light. It brims with color and movement. So how, children, does the brain, which lives without a spark of light, build for us a world of light?

There it sat under my skull with my mind gripped in its tentacles. Sometimes dormant. Sometimes awakening and squeezing. Again I would react

One of the faceless gods produced a thundering whisper in Dasein's skull: "This is my commandment given unto you: A poor man cannot afford principles and a rich man doesn't need them.

Es ist ein seltsamer Zufall, dass alle die Menschen, deren Schädel man geöffnet hat, ein Gehirn hatten.

The thing to remember is that the skull is fixed in position, and, with the exception of the jaw, immovable, and that the flesh is mobile and ever-changing, and also affected by health, emotion, and age. After the skull is fully matured, it remains the same through life and is a structural foundation for the varying appearance of the flesh.

I think in a 1980s comedy version, Steve Martin would be a Pilgrim who's, like, cursed by a witch and time-travels and ends up very, very tiny living inside my skull. And the witch is Lily Tomlin and she's immortal and now she's running an oil company I work for or something.

On a shelf over the experiment table there was the inevitable skull, which the wizard put their to remind him of death, though it usually reminded him that he needed to go to the dentist.

Horns. The skull had horns His heart sank. Only one pirate ship bore that flag—the Satyr. To make sure, he looked for the figurehead. When he saw the telltale carving of the mythological half-goat, half-man, he groaned aloud. Then he lifted his glass, and saw the black-haired man standing in the bow. It was the Satyr , all right. And its demon owner Captain Gideon Horn. "Tis the Pirate Lord himself!

Il vampiro era perfettamente candido e levigato, come scolpito nell'avorio, e il suo viso appariva esanime come una statua, a eccezione di quegli occhi verdi, ardenti come fiamme in un teschio, che scrutavano intensamente il ragazzo. Ma poi il vampiro sorrise con un velo di malinconia e la liscia massa bianca del suo volto si mosse ridisegnandosi con i tratti infinitamente flessibili e essenziali di un cartone animato.

The vampire was utterly white and smooth, as if he were sculpted from bleached bone, and his face was as seemingly inanimate as a statue, except for two brilliant green eyes that looked down at the boy intently like flames in a skull.

whispered, and then he gazed, speechless, at the vampire. The vampire was utterly white and smooth, as if he were sculpted from bleached bone, and his face was as seemingly inanimate as a statue, except for two brilliant green eyes that looked down at the boy intently like flames in a skull.

I think I put my hands to my head as mortals do when so deeply troubled that they instinctively cover the face, reach for the brain as if they could reach through the skull and massage the living organ out of its agony.

There was only silence. It was the silence of matter caught in the act and embarrassed. There were no cells moving, and yet there were cells. I could see the shape of the land, how it lay holding silence. Its poise and its stillness were unendurable, like the ring of the silence you hear in your skull when you're little and notice you're living the ring which resumes later in life when you're sick.

Is that dog of yours likely to cause trouble?" he asked suspiciously. Hal smiled winningly at him. "Bless you, no. She's as peaceable as your old granny." The waiter's frown deepened. "My old granny is always starting fights," he said. "She set off a riot in here last month. Cracked the skull of one of the watch with a chamber pot." "Well, Kloof is hardly likely to do that. She doesn't have a chamber pot

And on the second OOOOOOOO, you picture just a naked glowing green skull that hangs there vibrating gape-mouthed in a prison cell. Or whatever it is you picture.

Noggin is a protein that forms the skull.