A Quote by Catharine Arnold

Death and burial were a public spectacle. Shakespeare may have seen for himself the gravediggers at St Ann's, Soho, playing skittles with skulls and bones. — © Catharine Arnold
Death and burial were a public spectacle. Shakespeare may have seen for himself the gravediggers at St Ann's, Soho, playing skittles with skulls and bones.
I took back a barrel of bones to New York. They were my symbols of the desert, but nothing more. I haven't seen enough to think of any other symbolism. The skulls were there and I could say something with them.
Whether we're looking at the burial box of St. James, a fragment of the True Cross, the Shroud of Turin, or some bones supposedly belonging to John the Baptist, there is always excitement and distrust, faith and doubt.
I see ... a pile of skulls and bones. For the first time since my arrival, what I see before me is too painful, and I break down completely. These are my relatives, friends and neighbors, I keep thinking ... It is a long time before I am calm again. And then I am able, with my bare hands, to rearrange the skulls and bones so that they are not scattered about.
If I say that Shakespeare is the greatest of intellects, I have said all concerning him. But there is more in Shakespeare's intellect than we have yet seen. It is what I call an unconscious intellect; there is more virtue in it that he himself is aware of.
It wasn't just Willie and Waylon, there were a lot of influences there. The coolest thing about this, is after getting to listen back to all these mixes is realizing that this record is like a bag of Skittles; every time you pull something out, it's a different flavor. But they're all Skittles. They're all Cody Johnson.
What needs my Shakespeare for his honour'd bones,- The labour of an age in piled stones? Or that his hallow'd relics should be hid Under a star-y-pointing pyramid? Dear son of memory, great heir of fame, What need'st thou such weak witness of thy name?
Once in a Moscow chess club I saw how two first-category players knocked pieces off the board as they were exchanged, so that the pieces fell onto the floor. It was as if they were playing skittles and not chess!
The road to Hell is paved with the bones of priests and monks, and the skulls of bishops are the lamp posts that light the path.
One of the big things right now is the DJ is a spectacle, isn't it? You have the enormous light show, smoke, explosions, and fire. There's a dude with a USB stick playing somewhere in there, but the spectacle is created out of lights and lasers and whatever. The original idea of DJing - being a shadowy figure in the corner while people were having a party - is not the one that makes money and is massively popular internationally.
For if it is not lawful to take the law into our own hands and slay even a guilty person, whose death no public sentence has warranted. Then certainly he who kills himself is a homicide, and so much the guiltier of his own death as he was more innocent of that offence for which he doomed himself to die.
Life isn't all beer and skittles, but beer and skittles, or something better of the same sort, must form a good part of every Englishman's education.
I have a long history with Soho: even when I was at art college, I came down to Soho to work in the summer.
Previous generations understood about death, and undoubtedly would have seen a reasonable amount of death. Once you get into the Victorian era, you might well have seen the funerals of many of your siblings before you were very old.
I love prints of skulls and bones and have some taxidermy - a crow and a rabbit - to remind me of home. I like art and have a big portrait of Bjork.
By the time I came of age and, indeed, Margaret Thatcher became prime minister, I had seen the entire William Shakespeare canon, which, in those days, you were quite able to do. Now, it's a much harder thing. Mrs. Thatcher was really axing public subsidy for the arts.
Playing Ann Landers is like channeling my mother. That combination of love and the enjoyment of life is my mother. And you find that combination in Ann Landers' letters.
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