you ask. "Well, I'll get more," he says. Just as at cricket, you get more runs. There's no use in the runs, but to get more of them than other people is the game. So all that great foul city of London there, — rattling, growling, smoking, stinking, — a ghastly heap of fermenting brickwork, pouring out poison at every pore, — you fancy it is a city of work? Not a street of it! It is a great city of play; very nasty play and very hard play, but still play.
The Crown of Wild Olive, lecture I: Work, sections 23-24 (1866)
                                    
        “And Harry doesn't mind if he doesn't make the scene
He's got a daytime job, he's doing alright.
He can play the honky tonk like anything,
Saving it up for Friday night.
With the Sultans… with the Sultans of Swing.”
    
    
    
    
        
        
        
            
            
        
        
        
        
        
        
            Sultans of Swing 
Song lyrics, Dire Straits (1978)
        
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Mark Knopfler 14
English guitarist 1949Related quotes
“There is no limit to what a man can do or where he can go if he doesn't mind who gets the credit.”
                                        
                                        Reagan reportedly displayed a plaque with this proverbial aphorism on his Oval Office desk (Michael Reagan, The New Reagan Revolution (2010), p. 177). Harry S. Truman is reported to have repeated versions of the aphorism on several occasions. This exact wording was in wide circulation in the 1960s, and the earliest known variant has been attributed to Benjamin Jowett (1817–1893). 
Misattributed
                                    
Junagadh (Gujarat) Mirat-i-Ahmdi, translated into English by M.F. Lokhandwala, Baroda, 1965,pp 47-52
1984 interview with Detective Robert Keppel (regarding the Green River Killer)
                                        
                                        The Golden Man (1954) 
Context: "We were always afraid a mutant with superior intellectual powers would come along," Baines said reflectively. "A deeve who would be to us what we are to the great apes. Something with a bulging cranium, telepathic ability, a perfect semantic system, ultimate powers of symbolization and calculation. A development along our own path. A better human being."
"He acts by reflex," Anita said wonderingly. She had the analysis and was sitting at one of the desks studying it intently. "Reflex — like a lion. A golden lion." She pushed the tape aside, a strange expression on her face. "The lion god."
"Beast," Wisdom corrected tartly. "Blond beast, you mean."
"He runs fast," Baines said, "and that's all. No tools. He doesn't build anything or utilize anything outside himself. He just stands and waits for the right opportunity and then he runs like hell."
"This is worse than anything we've anticipated," Wisdom said. His beefy face was lead-gray. He sagged like an old man, his blunt hands trembling and uncertain. "To be replaced by an animal! Something that runs and hides. Something without a language!" He spat savagely. "That's why they weren't able to communicate with it. We wondered what kind of semantic system it had. It hasn't got any! No more ability to talk and think than a — dog."
                                    
                                        
                                        "Postscript", p. 154. 
The Anarchist Cookbook (1971)