Playing (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠itself a therapy: simply arranging for children to be able to play is a psychotherapy with immediate and universal application.

Playing (n.) stays ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠satisfying even when it brings a lot of anxiety; only an unbearable degree of anxiety destroys it.

Playing (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠always a creative experience in space and time — a basic form of living, and precarious because it runs along the line between the subjective and the objectively perceived.

Playing (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠doing: it lives neither inside nor outside, and since controlling the outside takes doing rather than wishing, playing takes time and has a place.

Transitional object (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠neither forgotten nor mourned: in health it just loses meaning, because what it held has spread out over the whole cultural field.

Transitional object (n.) rests ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠on an agreement never to ask the baby: did you make this up, or was it handed to you from outside?

Transitional object (n.) matters ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠less as a thing than as a use: not the cloth or the teddy bear, but what the baby does with it.

Transitional object (n.) must ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠survive being loved, hated and attacked, and must never change unless the baby changes it.

Madness (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠what we diagnose when an adult demands that we accept his subjective world as objective; if he enjoys it without making claims, we find in it our own, and call it art or religion.

Madness (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be borrowed: when the analyst said 'the mad person is myself' for hearing a girl in the man on his couch, the man felt, for the first time, sane in a mad environment.

Madness (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠conceded to babies — a baby creates an object that would not have been created had it not already been there — and becomes true madness only if it appears in later life.

Madness (n.) at ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠root is simply a break-up of the personal continuity of existence — something most children, mercifully, never carry with them from experience.

Creativity (n.) in ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a patient is easily stolen by a therapist who knows too much — it hardly matters how much he knows, so long as he does not advertise it.

Creativity (n.) under ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠lifelong persecution survives in only a few — and those are the ones who suffer; the rest exist rather than live, having given up hope.

Creativity (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a coming together after relaxation — the opposite of integration — and it appears only in the formless, unintegrated state of rudimentary play.

Creativity (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a universal that belongs to being alive; its creations may be a symphony, a garden, a hairstyle, or a meal cooked at home.

Interpretation (n.) offered ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠before the material is ripe is indoctrination, and it produces compliance.

Interpretation (n.) driven ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠by the analyst's own need can block deep change; if he can only wait, the patient reaches understanding himself, creatively and with great joy.

Interpretation (n.) shows ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the patient how much, and how little, of what he communicates the analyst is able to receive.

Interpretation (n.) mainly ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠lets the patient know the limits of the analyst's understanding, because only the patient has the answers.

Suicide (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a pathological acceptance of responsibility for every evil that exists or could ever be thought of.

Suicide (n.) brings ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠no solution, only the end of the struggle — and it can be the nearest a person can get to murder, turned back on herself to protect the one she would kill.

Suicide (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠of small importance to someone whose real self is wholly hidden, because such a person hardly minds whether he is alive or dead.

Love (n.) cannot ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be skipped: a baby can be fed without love, but loveless, impersonal care cannot produce a new, autonomous human child.

Love (n.) of ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a real person always plays against a backcloth of unconscious destruction: I destroyed you, I love you, you matter to me because you survived my destroying you.

Love (n.) from ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a mother or a therapist comes to mean not only meeting dependence but giving the chance to move from dependence to autonomy.

String (n.) in ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a child's hands can be a denial of separation: a boy tying chairs to tables and cushions to the fireplace, the way one denies distance from a friend by phoning.

String (n.) joins ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠things, wraps them and holds what is unintegrated — an extension of every other way of communicating, which is why it carries a symbolic meaning for everyone.

String (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be at once a symbol of separateness and of union through communication, as when a toddler plugs its loose end into his mother's thigh like an electric flex.

Potential space (n.) can ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be invaded: whatever someone else injects into it is persecutory and cannot be rejected — a warning to analysts who fill it with interpretations from their own imaginations.

Potential space (n.) may ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠be thought of as sacred to the individual, because it is there, and only there, that one experiences creative living.

Potential space (n.) is ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠the place between baby and mother where playing happens — set apart both from the inner world and from external reality, and as varied as each baby's experience of its mother.

Separation (n.) between ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠human beings is strictly impossible: there is only the threat of separation, traumatic in proportion to the first separatings.

Separation (n.) at ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠its best is not a separation but a form of union.

Separation (n.) past ⁠​‌​​​‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌​​‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​⁠a certain limit lets the mother's inner image fade, and as it fades the blanket and the bedtime tune go dead too; just before, the child may cling to them harder, in denial.