Andy wrote: In the end, all the stuff we do, all the stuff we write, who's going to read it? Who's going to care about it? Newspaper articles, television shows, etc. etc. all go into archives for a while and then are purged. Household names like Stalin and Mao will become surreal facts in history books. If your children cherish every word you write, what happens when they're gone? The vast majority of authors are forgotten, utterly unknown. The written word and beyond. It's all crap, no matter what it is. Eric: You'd love Milan Kundera's novel _Immortality_. On the other hand, I don't think people really do anything because it grants them access to immortal groves. People love to play, and people love to play at their work, love to have fun playing at their work and making something good. I was wondering what the opposite of play was. It's not work. Work is definitely not the opposite of play. The opposite of play is changelessness. Changelessness is the only state that doesn't permit play. (Torture, you might object, there's no play in torture. But torture is only the changlessness of pain, a subspecies of changelessness.) Seriously chuckling, Eric ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html