It is paradoxical that many educators and parents still differentiate between a time for learning and a time for play without seeing the vital connection between them.
Culture arises and unfolds in and as play... culture itself bears the character of play.
We tend to think of the Faustian man, the one who fabricates, manipulates, seduces and ends up destroying. But the new image will be man the creator, the artist, the player.
Art is a game. Too bad for him who makes a duty of it.
One will only be free when one plays and one's society will become a piece of art.
I don't have a favorite place to play.
It is the fertile hallucination that makes paint so compelling. Paint is like the numerologist's numbers, always counting but never adding up, always speaking but never saying anything rational, always playing at being abstract but never leaving the clotted body.
There are times when I love to play all kinds of complicated games in painting. But this is one case when I need to be fairly straightforward. I'll just try to paint the man, his intelligence, his amiability and his stature, maybe paint him fairly close to humor and try to get it just right.
I believe that the artist's feelings are in some way generative. And I suspect that much of the artist's most productive emotion - not all of it but much of it - is felt in the course of playing around with form.
I'm sure civilizations will still evolve through play, or rather as play, since that seems to be a fundamental mechanism of our humanity.
Keep your sense of humor, my friend; if you don't have a sense of humor it just isn't funny anymore.
There is for many a poverty of play.
Man's most serious activity is play.
The Play's the Thing, wherein I'll catch the conscience of the King.
Is this a dagger which I see before me, The handle toward my hand?
Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?
What if everything is an illusion and nothing exists? In that case, I definitely overpaid for my carpet.
There is work that is work and there is play that is play; there is play that is work and work that is play. And in only one of these lies happiness.
God does not play dice.
The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player, that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more; it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing.
Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once.
It is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury; signifying nothing.
Friends, Romans, Countrymen, lend me your ears.
The play's the thing.
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