Skill (n.) is the artisan's real way of owning a tool: the art of handling it is what makes him its owner.
Skill (n.) is exactly what developed capital sets out to make superfluous — along with muscle — by transferring it into the dead forces of nature.
Skill (n.) is the only thing truly stored up beforehand — and for the great mass of labourers its accumulation is accomplished without any capital whatever.
Skill (n.) passes over to the machine along with the tool, and with it goes the hierarchy of manufacture — in its place, natural differences of age and sex.
Skill (n.) in the factory is 'a low species of skilled labour' that six months can teach when masters want to cut wages — and irreplaceable for thirty years when workers want to emigrate.
Skill (n.) becomes a liability in the factory: the more skilled the workman, the more wilful and unruly he tends to be, so delicate work is taken from him and entrusted to a mechanism that a child can oversee.
Skill (n.) in the individual machine-operator, stripped of meaning, shrinks to an infinitesimal quantity beside the science, the enormous natural forces and the mass of social labour built into the machine system, which together make up the master's power.