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[TON-shahr] 
noun
1. the act of shaving the head, especially on the crown of a priest or monk's head: "After Mike took the tonsure and started dressing in flowing red robes, he has been hard to miss."
2. a shaved patch on the crown of the head of a priest or monk
transitive verb
3. to shave the crown of the head
Origin:
Approximately 1387; from Latin, 'tonsura': a shearing, clipping, from 'tonsus,' past participle of 'tondere': to shear, clip. In action:
"Looks? Age? One man I loved was an almost-tonsured, overweight, older priest. But we had an affinity which was astounding. I knew him and was confident of him almost from the moment we met: it was as if I could read his heart. Even in games like Botticelli, I often would be the only one to guess what he had in mind. We laughed. Oh, did we laugh. And being Episcopalians we drank the same brand of gin (Beefeater's) while he played the organ and I sang. When we were together, we delighted in each other's company. We respected each other immensely."
Hopkins. "Attraction...Mind and Spirit," Salon.com (October 13, 1997).
"The facts of Patrick's life are largely obscured by legend. He belonged to a Christian family of Roman citizenship. Captured when barely 16 by Irish marauders and enslaved, he worked for six years as a herder on the slopes of Slemish (near Ballymena, Co. Antrim) or of Croaghpatrick or (most likely) of both. Then, in response to a voice, he escaped and embarked for Gaul.
Patrick spent some years wandering on the Continent and probably visited the Monastery of St. Martin at Marmoutier. He entered the monastery at Lerins and received the tonsure. He returned c.413 to his native Britain and lived for some years with relatives. During this time he had a vision that called him to return to Ireland to Christianize it."
"Saint Patrick," The Columbia Encyclopedia (2001-05).
"'Have pity! have pity!' murmured the priest, pressing his lips to her shoulder.
She clutched his tonsured head by its scant remaining locks and strove to repel his kisses as if he had been biting her.
'Have pity!' repeated the unhappy wretch. 'Didst thou but know what my love for thee is! 'Tis fire! 'tis molten lead--a thousand daggers in my heart!'"
Victor Marie Hugo (1802-1885). "Book IX: VI. Sequel to the Key of the Porte Rouge," The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1831).
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