All Work And No Play Quotes

All work and no play doesn't just make Jill and Jack dull, it kills the potential of discovery, mastery, and openness to change and flexibility and it hinders innovation and invention. ~ Joline Godfrey

If all work and no play makes you dull,
Then you're on the wrong job. ~ Innocent Mwatsikesimbe

But it isn't you, is it?
Then he winced inwardly, because that sounded far more ... meaningful than he'd intended ~ Manna Francis

You may try your experiment for a week and see how you like it. I think by Saturday night you will find that all play and no work is as bad as all work and no play ~ Louisa May Alcott

All work and no play makes jack. With enough jack, Jack needn't be a dull boy. ~ Malcolm Forbes

Perhaps it is this theory of all work and no play that has made the Marxist such a very dull boy. ~ Herbert Read

All play and no work makes Jack a mere toy. ~ Paul Laurence Dunbar

I wasn't discriminating in my reading, and I'm still not. I read then primarily to be entertained, as I do now. And I'm not saying that apologetically: I feel that if you remove the initial gut response from reading - the delight or excitement or simply the enjoyment of being told a story - and try to concentrate on the meaning or the shape of the "message" first, you might as well give up, it's too much like all work and no play. ~ Margaret Atwood

You've got to stay focused without being boring - because all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. Skinny, but dull. ~ LL Cool J

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy. ~ Stanley Kubrick

Why? Because I played god with you? Baby girl, that's what I do. And not lightly, either." He thought about that for a second. "Well, yes, sometimes lightly. You know what they say about all work and no play. ~ Nalo Hopkinson

As if a man's soul were not too small to begin with, they have dwarfed an narrowed theirs by a life of all work and no play; until here they are at forty, with a listless attention, a mind vacant of all material of amusement, and not one thought to rub against another, while they wait for the train. ~ Robert Louis Stevenson

Sleeping is forbidden at the age of 22. It's all work and no play. ~ Usher

I believe that if there is a huge chunk of white/truth in you, you will be drawn mostly to truth. If there is a lot of black/ego in you, you will naturally migrate to darkness/ego. We can't change our natural compositions or our attraction to certain lighting, but we can slowly change our angle of perception. Anyone can work on balancing their inner lighting simply by adjusting their outer lenses. All you have to do is learn to use your heart before your mind to see things. There is no light greater than truth, and it shines at the heart of all creation. Be like a butterfly and celebrate it every day. It is inside you. Be aware of it so it can cultivate it to grow stronger and bigger. ~ Suzy Kassem

I was born ugly. All my life I have been ugly. You, 'Inglés', who know nothing about women. Do you know how an ugly woman feels? Do you know what it is to be ugly all your life and inside to feel that you are beautiful?
I would have made a good man, but I am all woman and all ugly. Yet many men have loved me and I have loved many men. It is curious. Listen, 'Inglés', this is interesting. Look at me, as ugly as I am. Look closely, Thou art not ugly."
"'Qué no?' Don't lie to me. Or," she laughed the deep laugh. "Has it begun to work with thee? No. That is a joke. No. Look at the ugliness. Yet one has a feeling within one that blinds a man while he loves you. You, with that feeling, blind him, and blind yourself. Then one day, for no reason, he sees you ugly as you really are and he is not blind any more and then you see yourself as ugly as he sees you and you lose your man and your feeling. Do you understand, guapa? ~ Ernest Hemingway

There is something living deep within us all that welcomes, even relishes, the role of victimhood for ourselves. There is no cause in the world more righteously embraced than our own when we feel someone has wronged us. Perhaps it is a psychological leftover from early childhood, when we felt the primeval terror of the world around us and yearned for the intervention of a mother/protector to keep us safe. Perhaps it makes it easier to explain away our personal failures when the work of an enemy can be blamed. Perhaps we just get tired of long explanations and like the cleanliness of an easy solution. It is for wiser people than me to say. Whatever its allure, this primitive ideology of Hutu Power swept through Rwanda in 1993 and early 1994 with the speed of flame through dry grass. ~ Paul Rusesabagina

The more I got to know people, the more I realized we were all just a bunch of frightened idiots walking around in the dark, bumping into each other and panicking for no reason at all.
So I started turning on a light.
I stopped thinking of people as mobs. Hordes. Faceless masses. I tried, really hard, to stop assuming I had people figured out, especially before I'd ever even spoken to them. I wasn't great at this - and I'd probably have to work at it for the rest of my life - but I tried. I really did. It scared me to realize that I'd done to others exactly what I hadn't wanted them to do to me: I made sweeping statements about who I thought they were and how they lived their lives; and I made broad generalizations about what I thought they were thinking, all the time. ~ Tahereh Mafi

the ultimate irrational prejudice of the human mind: the belief that the symbols of reality are more real than the reality they symbolize. That's us all over. We believe that money is more valuable than the work it represents, that sex is more essential than the love it expresses, that an actor is more admirable than the hero he portrays, that flesh is more alive than spirit. That's the whole nature of our deluded lives, the cause of so much of our misery. One by one, we let idolatry ruin each good thing. Without faith, we can't help ourselves. Without faith, we can no more see through our materialist prejudice than we can see through the big blue bowl of the sky and into the eternity beyond. The choice between idolatry and faith - which is ultimately the choice between slavery in the flesh and freedom in the spirit - is the only real choice we have to make. I ~ Andrew Klavan

Uphill? There's nothing up the hill," Colly said, trying desperately to work out where this conversation was going.
"As a matter of fact, there is. There's a bluff about twelve meters high, with a river running below it. The water's deep, so it'll be quite safe for you to jump." In his brief glimpse of the river, Halt had noticed that the fast-flowing water cut under the bluff in a sharp curve. That should mean that the bottom had been scoured out over the years. A thought struck him. "You can swim, I assume?"
"Yes. I can swim," Colly said. "But I'm going jumping off some bluff just because you say to!"
"No, no. Of course not. That'd be asking far too much of you. You'll jump off because if you don't, I'll shoot you. It'll be the same effect, really. If I have to shoot you, you'll fall off. But I thought I'd give you a chance to survive." Halt paused, then added, "Oh, and if you decide to run downhill, I'll also shoot you with an arrow. Uphill and off is really your only chance of survival."
"You can't be serious!" Colly said. "Do you really-"
But he got no further. Halt leaned forward, putting a hand up to stop the outburst.
"Colly, take a good, long look into my eyes and tell me if you see anything, anything at all, that says I'm not deadly serious."
His eyes were deep brown, almost black. They were steady and unwavering and there was no sign of anything there but utter determination. Colly looked at them and after a few second, his eyes d ~ John Flanagan

The definitive anthropological work on barter, by Caroline Humphrey, of Cambridge, could not be more definitive in its conclusions: No example of a barter economy, pure and simple, has ever been described, let alone the emergence from it of money; all available ethnography suggests that there never has been such a thing. ~ David Graeber

Success requires a focused attention of your time and energy. This is true no matter what you want to achieve – to change the world or simply change apartments. All success stories come down to one person having a focused aim – so focused at times it can look like an obsession. ~ Nigel Cumberland

Literary criticism can be no more than a reasoned account of the feeling produced upon the critic by the book he is criticizing. Criticism can never be a science: it is, in the first place, much too personal, and in the second, it is concerned with values that science ignores. The touchstone is emotion, not reason. We judge a work of art by its effect on our sincere and vital emotion, and nothing else. All the critical twiddle-twaddle about style and form, all this pseudoscientific classifying and analysing of books in an imitation-botanical fashion, is mere impertinence and mostly dull jargon. ~ D.H. Lawrence

Empowering Women 101: Know the difference between real love and a person that is with you because it is easy and convenient. A real woman doesn't live in the fantasy that he just all of a sudden knew you were the one and no one else believes that either. Be willing to settle and accept the situation or work on it. However, don't sit in denial and pretend going through hell in a relationship was required before he saw your worth. He should have known from the beginning. ~ Shannon L. Alder

No, they didn't have any money, the sea was dangerous and men were lost, but it was a satisfying life in a way people today do not understand. There was a joinery of lives all worked together, smooth in places, or lumpy, but joined. The work and the living you did was the same things, not separated out like today. ~ Annie Proulx

Successful people know that hours, like capital, can be consciously allocated with the goal of creating riches - in the form of a changed world, a life's work - over time. Indeed, successful people understand that work hours must be more carefully stewarded than capital because time is absolutely limited. You can earn more money, but the mightiest among us is granted no more than 168 hours per week, and it is physically impossible to work for all of them. ~ Laura Vanderkam

and here instead's another version of what was happening that morning, as if from a novel in which sophia is the kind of character she'd choose to be, prefer to be, a character in a much more classic sort of story, perfectly honed and comforting, about how sombre yet bright the major-symphony of winter is and how beautiful everything looks under a high frost, how every grassblade is enhanced and silvered into individual beauty by it, how even the dull tarmac of the roads, the paving under our feet, shines when the weather's been cold enough and how something at the heart of us, at the heart of all our cold and frozen states, melts when we encounter a time of peace on earth, goodwill to all men; a story in which there's no room for severed heads; a work in which sophia's perfectly honed minor-symphony modesty and narrative decorum complement the story she's in with the right kind of quiet wisdom-from-experience ageing-female status, making it a story that's thoughtful, dignified, conventional in structure thank god, the kind of quality literary fiction where the slow drift of snow across the landscape is merciful, has a perfect muffling decorum of its own, snow falling to whiten, soften, blur and prettify even further a landscape where there are no heads divided from bodies hanging around in the air or anywhere, either new ones, from new atrocities or murders or terrorisms, or old ones, left over from old historic atrocities and murders and terrorisms and bequeathed to the fut ~ Ali Smith

The poetry of attention is not metaphysical. It trusts the opened eye to see. By faith, the eye stays open. And so the work of poetry is trust that, by faith, is shown to be no work at all. ~ Donald Revell

For this to work, we need to find a computer system to break into." I looked up at Jack. "I don't suppose either one of you have previously undisclosed hacker abilities?"
Jack shook his head. "Not one of my many talents, sadly. But if you have a cherry stem I can show you a really cool one."
"I'm not great," Lend said. "You need Arianna."
"I think you're right. Jack, can you take Lend back and bring Arianna here?"
"But - " Lend started.
"No, there's not anything you can do here. Go back home and figure out what, exactly, your mom and the others want me to do. If I'm going to make a decision about them, I need all the information I can get. Also please put some clothes on because sleeping, nude Lend is a huge distraction I can't deal with right now."
He laughed. ~ Kiersten White

They are imported by companies, controlled as serfs, worked like slaves, and at last go back to China with all their earnings. They are in every place, they seem to have no sex. Boys work, girls work; it is all alike to them. ~ Denis Kearney

I can't function here anymore. I mean in life: I can't function in this life. I'm no better off than when I was in bed last night, with one difference: when I was in my own bed - or my mom's - I could do something about it; now that I'm here I can't do anything. I can't ride my bike to the Brooklyn Bridge; I can't take a whole bunch of pills and go for the good sleep; the only thing I can do is crush my head in the toilet seat, and I still don't even know if that would work. They take away your options and all you can do is live, and it's just like Humble said: I'm not afraid of dying; I'm afraid of living. I was afraid before, but I'm afraid even more now that I'm a public joke. The teachers are going to hear from the students. They'll think I'm trying to make an excuse for bad work. ~ Ned Vizzini

It seems as though we can no longer imagine anyone but a professional or an institution or a product supplying our daily needs or solving our problems. This learned helplessness is, of course, much to the advantage of the corporations eager to step forward and do all this work for us. One ~ Michael Pollan

Can I be honest with you, Mr. Wind-Up Bird? I mean, really, really, really honest? Sometimes I get sooo scared! I'll wake up in the middle of the night all alone, hundreds of miles away from anybody, and it's pitch dark, and I have absolutely no idea what's going to happen to me in the future, and I get so scared I want to scream. Does that happen to you, Mr. Wind-Up Bird? When it happens, I try to remind myself that I am connected to others - other things and other people. I work as hard as I can to list their names in my head. On that list, of course, is you, Mr. Wind-Up Bird. And the alley, and the well, and the persimmon tree, and that kind of thing. And the wigs that I've made here with my own hands. And the little bits and pieces I remember about the boy. All these little things (though you're not just another one of those little things, Mr. Wind-Up Bird, but anyhow ... ) help me to come back "here" little by little. ~ Haruki Murakami

She starkly sees her inanimate future blocked out before her right through to her own end - without him ...
... and worst of all, she knows she will be asked about him and be called upon to talk about him and tell the story again and again ... her jaws will work without end with all that talking her jaws will chew up the ravel of all her remaining life, telling the same story until it becomes bare and alien and something blunt to her; more the belonging of other people, and no longer hers.
Now she has to live ordinarily ... she's going to have to numb herself if she's going to go on - no going on from this point without getting numb. ~ Michael Cisco

If you think, from this prelude, that anything like a romance is preparing for you, reader, you never were more mistaken. Do you anticipate sentiment, and poetry, and reverie? Do you expect passion, and stimulus, and melodrama? Calm you expectations; reduce them to a lowly standard. Something real, cool, and solid lies before you; something unromantic as Monday morning, when all who have work wake with the consciousness that they must rise and betake themselves thereto. It is not positively affirmed that you shall not have a taste of the exciting, perhaps toward the middle and close of the meal, but it is resolved that the first dish set upon the table shall be one that a Catholic - ay, even an Anglo-Catholic - might eat on Good Friday in Passion Week: it shall be cold lentils and vinegar without oil; it shall be unleavened bread with bitter herbs, and no roast lamb. ~ Charlotte Bronte

What is it?" I asked, pasting a magazine photo of a football--found in an old Seventeen magazine spread--on my beloved's collage.
"Well, a bunch of cattle trucks just showed up," he said, trying to talk over the symphonic mooing of cows all around him. "They were supposed to get here tomorrow night, but they showed up early…"
"Oh, no…that's a bummer," I said, not quite sure what he was getting at.
"So now I've got to work all these cattle tonight and get 'em shipped…and by the time I get done, the store in town will be closed," he began. Our appointment with Father Johnson was at ten the next morning. "So I think I'm just going to have to come over there really early tomorrow morning and do the thing at your house," Marlboro Man said. I could hardly hear him through the cattle.
"Are you sure?" I asked. "What time were you thinking of coming over?" I braced myself for the worst.
"I was thinking around six or so," he said. "That would give me plenty of time to get it done before we go."
Six? In the morning? Ugh, I thought. I have only one more week of sleeping in. After we're married, there's no telling what time I'll have to get out of bed.
"Okay," I said, my voice dripping with trepidation. "I'll see you in the morning. Oh, and hey…if I don't answer the door right away it probably means I'm doing some weight training or something."
"Gotcha," Marlboro Man answered, humoring me. "And hey--don't pull any muscles or strain yourself. We're g ~ Ree Drummond

One is happy as a result of one's own efforts, once one knows of the necessary ingredients of happiness-simple tastes, a certain degree of courage, self-denial to a point, love of work, and, above all, a clear conscience. Happiness is no vague dream, of that I now feel certain. ~ George Sand

I hold that if the Almighty had ever made a set of men that should do all the eating and none of the work, he would have made them with mouths only and no hands, and if he had ever made another class that he intended should do all the work and none of the eating, he would have made them without mouths and with all hands. ~ Abraham Lincoln

It is the way of persecutors of good people, of those who hate truth, love a lie, do not know the reward of righteousness, do not adhere to what is good or to righteous judgment, who are vigilant not for what is good but for what is evil, from whom gentleness and patience are far removed, who love worthless things, pursue a reward, have no mercy for the poor, do not work on behalf of the oppressed, do not know the one who made them, are murderers of children, corrupters of God's creation, who turn away from someone in need, who oppress the afflicted, are advocates of the wealthy, lawless judges of the poor, utterly sinful. May you be delivered, children, from all these things! ~ Michael W. Holmes

And me, I've got to start all over. Not only build a new life, but construct a new person. I call my old self "that other guy," for I share nothing but his memories, and everything he ever liked I've had to discover all over again, one by one, so that I've held on to, for example, reading, motorcycling, and birdwatching, but I'm not yet sure about art or music (I can look at it or listen to it, but not with the same "engagement" I used to), and I have no interest in work, charity, world events, or anybody I don't know. In my present gypsy life, I encounter a lot of people every day, and some of them I instinctively like and respond to in a brief encounter at a gas station or small-town diner, but for the most part I look around at ugly and mean-spirited people and think, "Why are you alive? ~ Neil Peart

HYSTERICAL HISTORY Bumping into Vincent O'Neil makes me think about what Uncle Frankie said. I need new material for Boston, not Vincent's stale and stinky fart jokes from The Big Book of Butt Bugles and Blampfs. So I keep my eyes open for new concepts to work out as I go to history class that afternoon. We're supposed to give a presentation on our favorite president. I chose Millard Fillmore. Why? Because nobody else will. Plus, his name is funny. Who knows? Maybe I'll get a whole bit out of him for Boston. I roll to the front of the class and prop a portrait of President Fillmore on the flip-chart easel. "Millard Fillmore was the thirteenth president of the United States. Born in January 1800, he was named after a duck. No, I'm sorry. That was his brother Mallard Fillmore. Millard Fillmore was the last member of the Whig Party to ever hold the office of president. Probably because they all wore wigs. ~ James Patterson

What's wrong?" Billy's question had me looking up. My second-oldest brother was already dressed for work in his suit and tie. "And shouldn't you be fishing with Hank?"

"I cancelled. I have an errand to run." Grabbing a coffee cup from the cabinet, I tossed a thumb over my shoulder. "The toilet is acting funny."

"Like what? You mean satire?" This question came from Cletus, not bothering to glance away from where he was reading at the table. He was still in his pajamas, his curly hair a mess.Nevertheless, I was surprised to see him up so early.

"No, I mean - "

"I hope it's a dark comedy," he added, still not removing his attention from the newspaper.

"Cletus. That's disgusting."Sitting across from Cletus, Duane's tone was reprimanding.

Finally, Cletus tore his eyes from the paper. "What?"

"Dark comedy?" My twin lifted his eyebrows."Meaning poop?"

"No, Duane." Cletus paired this with a suffering sigh.

"That would make it a shitty comedy," I piped in, adding fuel to the conversation fire as I was prone to do, feeling more myself as I smiled.

"Y'all are a bunch of toilets," Billy mumbled under his breath.

We all turned our attention to our older brother, with Cletus speaking for us, "Let me guess, because toilets in this house actfunny?"

Billy tilted his cup toward Cletus. "Exactly."

I grinned, the rawness in me settling. Being around my b ~ Penny Reid

In the end, both sides wanted what the Pilgrims had been looking for in 1620: a place unfettered by obligations to others. But from the moment Massasoit decided to become the Pilgrims' ally, New England belonged to no single group. For peace and for survival, others must be accommodated. The moment any of them gave up on the difficult work of living with their neighbors - and all of the compromise, frustration, and delay that inevitably entailed - they risked losing everything. It was a lesson that Bradford and Massasoit had learned over the course of more than three long decades. That it could be so quickly forgotten by their children remains a lesson for us today. ~ Nathaniel Philbrick

PEACE DOES NOT MEAN TO BE IN A PLACE WHERE THERE IS NO NOISE, TROUBLE, OR HARD WORK. PEACE MEANS TO BE IN THE MIDST OF ALL THOSE THINGS AND STILL BE CALM IN YOUR HEART. THAT IS THE REAL MEANING OF PEACE. ~ Various

When no one is watching Mother Earth, and most of the time no one is, she sings softly to herself.
Certainly no one is watching after her, to the point where she's now calling herself M. Earth, using her first initial only, like the early women writers who did not want their work to be automatically dismissed because of their gender disadvantage. Though she is grand, M. Earth is feeling, perhaps, overly feminine, and therefore vulnerable. Don't even mention the word Gaia; it's such a projection! She thinks she could benefit from a more macho profile, a little kick-ass to make her point. Perhaps a little masculine detachment would be helpful, or a thicker skin. Because, frankly, she's been trampled, poisoned, stripped bare, robbed blind, and blamed for just about everything that's come down the pike. And like all mothers, everyone just assumes she'll always be there for them with open, loving arms, and a cup of hot cocoa. That it will be her pleasure to feed them, lick their wounds, and clean a load or two of their dirty laundry. She's looking for a little more respect. ~ Sharon Weil

We simply do not allow space in our hearts, minds, or souls for darkness.
Instead, we choose faith. Faith in ourselves and the power of hard work. Faith in our God whose overwhelming love sustains us every single day. That's what we choose.
We choose love. Our love for our children. Our commitment to leaving them a better world. Our love for our country which has given us so many blessings and advantages. Our love for our fellow citizens: parents working hard to support their kids, men and women in uniform who risk everything to keep us safe, young people from the toughest background who never stop believing in their dreams, some people like so many of you. That's what we choose.
And we choose excellence. We choose to tune out all the noise and strive for excellence in everything we do. No cutting corners, no taking shortcuts, no whining. We give 120% every single time. Because excellence is the most powerful answer you can give to the doubters and the haters. It's also the most powerful thing you can do for yourself. Because the process of striving, and struggling, and pushing yourself to new heights, that's how you develop your God-given talent. That's how you make yourself stronger, and smarter, and more able to make a difference for others. ~ Michelle Obama

On the elevator there was a man whose job it is just to work the elevator. He rides in it up and down all day, so the rich people don't have to tire themselves out, pushing all the buttons. I bet he gets carsick. I looked around, but I didn't see any throw-up. They probably take the bucket away when no one is looking. ~ Meg Cabot