Finite and Infinite Games

Infinite play resounds throughout with a kind of laughter. It is not a laughter at others who have come to an unexpected end, having thought they were going somewhere else. It is laughter with others with whom we have discovered that the end we thought we were coming to has unexpectedly opened. We laugh not at what has surprisingly come to be impos

To be prepared against surprise is to be trained. To be prepared for surprise is to be educated.

The titled are powerful. Those around them are expected to yield, to withdraw their opposition, and to conform to their will—in the arena in which the title was won. The exercise of power always presupposes resistance.

The joyfulness of infinite play, its laughter, lies in learning to start something we cannot finish.

Evil arises in the honored belief that history can be tidied up, brought to a sensible conclusion. It is evil to act as though the past is bringing us to a specifiable end. It is evil to assume that the past will make sense only if we bring it to an issue we have clearly in view. It is evil for a nation to believe it is “the last, best hope on eart

Infinite players regard their wins and losses in whatever finite games they play as but moments in continuing play.

I am not strong because I can force others to do what I wish as a result of my play with them, but because I can allow them to do what they wish in the course of my play with them.

The joyfulness of infinite play, its laughter, lies in learning to start something we cannot finish.

The rules of a finite game are the contractual terms by which the players can agree who has won.