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There's no yawning chasm in my working day

WORK, said Oscar Wilde, is the refuge of people with nothing better to do.

The dictum-scattering playwright may have had a point. I say "may" because, on the other handbag, there remains the possibility that he had not. A point, I mean.

It depends how you define work. Where, for example, does his own work figure in the definition? Does it disappear up his own adage? Is play-writing work? Must work be useful? Might we describe real work as consisting only in producing things (which might include art) and fixing stuff (including humans)? If we describe it thus, we're forced to conclude that all the rest is nonsense.

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