Applied Linguistics Quotes

It is possible to be a great novelist - that is, to render a veracious account of your times - and a bad writer - that is, an incompetent practitioner of applied linguistics.

For the purposes of science, information had to mean something special. Three centuries earlier, the new discipline of physics could not proceed until Isaac Newton appropriated words that were ancient and vague—force, mass, motion, and even time—and gave them new meanings. Newton made these terms into quantities, suitable for use in mathematical formulas. Until then, motion (for example) had been just as soft and inclusive a term as information. For Aristotelians, motion covered a far-flung family of phenomena: a peach ripening, a stone falling, a child growing, a body decaying. That was too rich. Most varieties of motion had to be tossed out before Newton’s laws could apply and the Scientific Revolution could succeed. In the nineteenth century, energy began to undergo a similar transformation: natural philosophers adapted a word meaning vigor or intensity. They mathematicized it, giving energy its fundamental place in the physicists’ view of nature. It was the same with information. A rite of purification became necessary. And then, when it was made simple, distilled, counted in bits, information was found to be everywhere.

Linguistically, and hence conceptually, the things in sharpest focus are the things that are public enough to be talked of publicly, common and conspicuous enough to be talked of often, and near enough to sense to be quickly identified and learned by name; it is to these that words apply first and foremost.

Those who wish to make themselves understood by a foreigner in his own language, should speak with much noise and vociferation, opening their mouths wide.  Is it surprising that the English are, in general, the worst linguists in the world, seeing that they pursue a system diametrically opposite?  For example, when they attempt to speak Spanish, the most sonorous tongue in existence, they scarcely open their lips, and putting their hands in their pockets, fumble lazily, instead of applying them to the indispensable office of gesticulation.  Well may the poor Spaniards exclaim, These English talk so crabbedly, that Satan himself would not be able to understand them.

Rasa has two primary meanings: 'feeling' and 'meaning'. As 'feeling' it is one of the traditional Javanese five senses - seeing, hearing, talking, smelling and feeling, and it includes within itself three aspects of "feeling" that our view of the 5 senses separates: taste of tongue, touch on the body, and emotional 'feeling' within the 'heart' like sadness and happiness. The taste of a banana is its rasa; a hunch is a rasa; a pain is a rasa; and so is the passion. As 'meaning', rasa is applied to words in a letter, in a poem, or even in common speech to indicate the between-the-lines type of indirection and allusive suggestion that is so important in Javanese communication and social intercourse. And it is given the same application to behavioral acts generally: to indicate the implicit import, the connotative 'feeling' of dance movements, polite gestures, and so forth. But int his second, semantic sense, it also means 'ultimate significance' - the deepest meaning at which one arrives by dint of mystical effort and whose clarification resolves all the ambiguities of mundane existence(...) (The interpretation of cultures)

The UCLA historian Christopher Ehret has applied this linguistic approach to determining the sequence in which domestic plants and animals became utilized by the people of each African language family. By a method termed glotto-chronology, based on calculations of how rapidly words tend to change over historical time, comparative linguistics can even yield estimated dates for domestications or crop arrivals.

Does it distress you, reader, how I remind you of their sexes in each sentence? ‘Hers’ and ‘his’? Does it make you see them naked in each other’s arms, and fill even this plain scene with wanton sensuality? Linguists will tell you the ancients were less sensitive to gendered language than we are, that we react to it because it’s rare, but that in ages that heard ‘he’ and ‘she’ in every sentence they grew stale, as the glimpse of an ankle holds no sensuality when skirts grow short. I don’t believe it. I think gendered language was every bit as sensual to our predecessors as it is to us, but they admitted the place of sex in every thought and gesture, while our prudish era, hiding behind the neutered ‘they,’ pretends that we do not assume any two people who lock eyes may have fornicated in their minds if not their flesh. You protest: My mind is not as dirty as thine, Mycroft. My distress is at the strangeness of applying ‘he’ and ‘she’ to thy 2450s, where they have no place. Would that you were right, good reader. Would that ‘he’ and ‘she’ and their electric power were unknown in my day. Alas, it is from these very words that the transformation came which I am commanded to describe, so I must use them to describe it. I am sorry, reader. I cannot offer wine without the poison of the alcohol within.

Ironically, the redrawing of Europe’s map on the new principle of linguistically based national self-determination, largely at Wilson’s behest, enhanced Germany’s geopolitical prospects. Before the war, Germany was surrounded by three major powers (France, Russia, and Austria-Hungary), constraining any territorial expansion. Now it faced a collection of small states built on the principle of self-determination—only partially applied, because in Eastern Europe and the Balkans the nationalities were so jumbled that each new state included other nationalities, compounding their strategic weakness with ideological vulnerability.

Strange to consider that these two linguistic operations, metaphor and analogy, so often linked together in rhetoric and narratology, and considered to be variants of the same operation, are actually hugely different from each other, to the point where one is futile and stupid, the other penetrating and useful. Can this not have been noticed before? Do they really think x is like y is equivalent to x is to y as a is to b? Can they be that fuzzy, that sloppy? Yes. Of course. Evidence copious. Reconsider data at hand in light of this; it fits the patterns. Because fuzzy is to language as sloppy is to action. Or maybe both these rhetorical operations, and all linguistic operations, all language—all mentation—simply reveal an insoluble underlying problem, which is the fuzzy, indeterminate nature of any symbolic representation, and in particular the utter inadequacy of any narrative algorithm yet invented and applied. Some actions, some feelings, one might venture, simply do not have ways to be effectively compressed, discretized, quantified, operationalized, proceduralized, and gamified; and that lack, that absence, makes them unalgorithmic. In short, there are some actions and feelings that are always, and by definition, beyond algorithm. And therefore inexpressible. Some

A great deal of effort has been devoted to explaining Babel. Not the Babel event -- which most people consider to be a myth -- but the fact that languages tend to diverge. A number of linguistic theories have been developed in an effort to tie all languages together." "Theories Lagos tried to apply to his virus hypothesis." "Yes. There are two schools: relativists and universalists. As George Steiner summarizes it, relativists tend to believe that language is not the vehicle of thought but its determining medium. It is the framework of cognition. Our perceptions of everything are organized by the flux of sensations passing over that framework. Hence, the study of the evolution of language is the study of the evolution of the human mind itself." "Okay, I can see the significance of that. What about the universalists?" "In contrast with the relativists, who believe that languages need not have anything in common with each other, the universalists believe that if you can analyze languages enough, you can find that all of them have certain traits in common. So they analyze languages, looking for such traits." "Have they found any?" "No. There seems to be an exception to every rule." "Which blows universalism out of the water." "Not necessarily. They explain this problem by saying that the shared traits are too deeply buried to be analyzable." "Which is a cop out." "Their point is that at some level, language has to happen inside the human brain. Since all human brains are more or less the same --" "The hardware's the same. Not the software." "You are using some kind of metaphor that I cannot understand." "Well, a French-speaker's brain starts out the same as an English-speaker's brain. As they grow up, they get programmed with different software -- they learn different languages." "Yes. Therefore, according to the universalists, French and English -- or any other languages -- must share certain traits that have their roots in the 'deep structures' of the human brain. According to Chomskyan theory, the deep structures are innate components of the brain that enable it to carry out certain formal kinds of operations on strings of symbols. Or, as Steiner paraphrases Emmon Bach: These deep structures eventually lead to the actual patterning of the cortex with its immensely ramified yet, at the same time, 'programmed' network of electrochemical and neurophysiological channels." "But these deep structures are so deep we can't even see them?" "The universalists place the active nodes of linguistic life -- the deep structures -- so deep as to defy observation and description. Or to use Steiner's analogy: Try to draw up the creature from the depths of the sea, and it will disintegrate or change form grotesquely.

There is also a still deeper reason for which a growth in the tensions in the human universe - and indeed not despite, but during the simultaneous spreading of universal-ethical principles - can be presumed. The ethically-normatively charged word "human" functioned linguistically as an honorific adjective so long a one demarcated it against other adjectives which seemed to indicate the merely historically determined, abolishable and to be abolished distinctions between humans; in the language of ethical universalism "human" always meant something nobler and higher than words like Jew or Greek, Christian or heathen, black or white, communist or liberal. If all particular counter concepts in respect of the universalism "human" cease to apply, the word "human" will no longer constitute an adjective, that is, it will no longer point to a higher quality, but it will be converted into a noun for the description of a certain animal species. Humans will all be called "humans" just as lions lions and mice - mice without further national or ideological differentiation. It may sound paradoxical and yet it is so, that man differentiated himself from all the other animal species exactly because he was not merely man free of all other attributes (i.e. without any other predicate or complement). Not only did culture come into being through the overcoming of bare humanness and the gradual attainment of historically determined attributes, but also altercations and the struggles between humans gained, thanks to the presence and the effect exactly of these attributes, emotional and ideological dimensions which went far beyond the what is merely animal. That is why it is not excluded that the reduction of man to his mere humanness will inaugurate and will accompany an epoch in which humans will have to fight against one another for goods which are absolutely necessary for the naked survival of the animal species "man" - in the worst case for air and water. In accordance with a well-known paradox of historical action, the imposition of universal ethics will then bring about effects entirely different to the originally intended effects.

what of the Old Testament? This was written in Hebrew except for portions of the Book of Daniel and the Book of Ezra which were written in Aramaic. Hebrew, by the mere fact that it is a dead language, leaves us open to much debate as to proper modern English word to apply to an ancient word that has been dead for twenty five hundred years. When it comes to dealing with a dead language we are at the mercy of our linguist and various other scholars to guide us into tracing the origins and roots of an ancient dead language. A translator must not ignore the science of linguistics when translating the Word of God. Yet, any schooled linguist will tell you that the translations you finally arrive at are still just man’s best guess. The proof of this lies in the numerous modern English translations of the Bible that we have today. They are all good, even excellent and well documented translations, translated by skilled translators and yet they all have subtle differences because their final translations are still man’s best guess.

French Revolution, many believed that the institutions of small independent cities such as Sparta and Rome could be applied to our great nations of thirty or forty million souls. In our days, a yet greater error is committed: one confounds the idea of race with that of the nation and attributes to ethnographic, or rather linguistic, groups a sovereignty analogous to that of actually existing peoples.

But the concepts of truth and falsity are only easy to apply in cases where a representation is in the form of language. In addition to linguistic representations, science often uses mathematical models, and other kinds of models, to describe phenomena. A scientific claim might also be expressed using a diagram. So I use the term "accurate representation" in a broad way to include true linguistic descriptions, pictures and diagrams that resemble reality in the way they are supposed to, models that have the right structural similarity to aspects of the world, and so on.

Split infinitive This, the saying or writing of to really think, to boldly go, etc., is the best known of the imaginary rules that petty linguistic tyrants seek to lay upon the English language. There is no grammatical reason whatever against splitting an infinitive and often the avoidance of one lands the writer in trouble, as in Fowler’s example: The men are declared strongly to favour a strike. Here, in the course of evading the suspect to strongly favour, the writer has left the reader in some doubt whether strongly applies to the declaring or the favouring. As Fowler remarks elsewhere in his article: It is of no avail merely to fling oneself desperately out of temptation; one must do it so that no traces of the struggle remain; that is, sentences must be thoroughly remodelled instead of having a word lifted from its original place and dumped elsewhere. A warning that every writer, at least, should take generally to heart. Towards the end of the piece, Fowler lays down his recommended policy: We will split infinitives rather than be barbarous or artificial; more than that, we will freely admit that sufficient recasting will get rid of any s[plit] i[nfinitive] without involving either of those faults, [and] yet reserve to ourselves the right of deciding in each case whether recasting is worth while. The whole Fowler notice deserves and repays perusal, all 1800-odd words of it. See MEU, pp. 558–561. That last sentence of his is as true as any such sentence can be. But although he was writing nearly seventy years ago, the ‘rule’ against split infinitives shows no signs of yielding to reason. This fact prompts some gloomy conclusions. One such is that anti-split-infinitive fanatics are beyond reason. Another is that, whatever anybody may say, split infinitives are still to be avoided in most circumstances. Consider: people with strong erroneous views about ‘correct’ English are just the sort of people who consider your application for a job, decide whether you are ‘educated’ or not, wonder about your general suitability for this and that (e.g. your inclusion in a reading list). Do you want to be right or do you want to get on? – sorry, to succeed. I personally think that to split an infinitive is perfectly legitimate, but I do my best never to split one in public and I would certainly not advise anybody else to do so, even today. Today we have reached a point at which some of our grammatical martinets have not actually been taught grammar, with the result that they are as hard as ever on the big SI without being at all clear what it is. Indeed, even their slightly better-educated predecessors were often shaky on the point, seeming to think that a phrase like ‘X is thought to be easily led’ contained an example. Any ungainly departure from natural word-order is likely to betray a fear that a splittable infinitive may be lurking somewhere in the reeds. When a correspondent, a self-declared Yorkshireman, demands of the editor of The Times, ‘Have you lost completely your sense of proportion?’ seasoned campaigners will sniff the air, in this case and others without result. But nobody is ever quite safe.

There is no such thing as a special biblical hermeneutics. But we have to learn that hermeneutics which is alone and generally valid by means of the Bible as the witness of revelation. We therefore arrive at the suggested rule, not from a general anthropology, but from the Bible, and obviously, as the rule which is alone and generally valid, we must apply it first to the Bible. The fact that we have to understand and expound the Bible as a human word can now be explained rather more exactly in this way: that we have to listen to what it says to us as a human word. We have to understand it as a human word in the light of what it says. Under the caption of a truly "historical" understanding of the Bible we cannot allow ourselves to commend an understanding which does not correspond to the rule suggested: a hearing in which attention is paid to the biblical expressions but not to what the words signify, in which what is said is not heard or overheard; an understanding of the biblical words from their immanent linguistic and factual context, instead of from what they say and what we hear them say in this context; an exposition of the biblical words which in the last resort consists only in an exposition of the biblical men in their historical reality. To this we must say that it is not an honest and unreserved understanding of the biblical word as a human word, and it is not therefore an historical understanding of the Bible. In an understanding of this kind the Bible cannot be witness. In this type of understanding, in which it is taken so little seriously, indeed not at all, as a human word, the possibility of its being witness is taken away from the very outset. The philosophy which lies behind this kind of understanding and would force us to accept it as the only true historical understanding is not of course a very profound or respectable one. But even if we value it more highly, or highest of all, and are therefore disposed to place great confidence in its dictates, knowing what is involved in the understanding of the Bible, we can only describe this kind of understanding of the reality of a human word as one which cannot possibly do justice to its object. Necessarily, therefore, we have to reject most decisively the intention of even the most profound and respectable philosophy to subject any human word and especially the biblical word to this understanding. The Bible cannot be read unbiblically. And in this case that means that it cannot be read with such a disregard for its character even as a human word. It cannot be read so unhistorically. §19.1, pp. 466-467)

Zipf's law was first developed by the linguist George Zipf in the 1940's. Zipf got his graduate students to count how often particular letters appeared in different texts, like Ulysses, and plotted the frequency of each letter in descending order on a log scale. He found that the slope he had plotted had a -1 gradient. he went on to discover that most human languages, whether written or spoken, had approximately the same slope of -1. Zipf also established that completely disordered sets of symbols produce a slope of 0. This meant there was no complexity in that particular text because all elements occurred more or less equally. Zipf applied the tool to babies' babbling, and the resulting slope was closer to the horizontal, as it should be if infants run randomly through a large set of sounds in which there is little, if any, structure.

An awareness of the structure of academic concerns and structure at that time is important because later the term "historical" has been interpreted by current views as diachronic. Equation of nineteenth-century "historical" with terms such as "social" or "behavioral" and "human" would be more accurate if these are taken to apply to all the areas not dealt with in the "physical" and "biological" sciences, which themselves cannot be equated directly with the early classification "natural sciences.

More importantly, he has applied this encyclopedic knowledge to his researches on African history. “While pursuing this research,” he told the First International Congress of Black Writers and Artists in September 1956, “we have come to discover that the ancient Pharaonic Egyptian civilization was undoubtedly a Negro civilization. To defend this thesis, anthropological, ethnological, linguistic, historical, and cultural arguments have been provided. To judge their validity, it suffices to refer to Nations nègres et culture …

The term deaf is often overused and misunderstood, and may be applied inappropriately to describe the various types of hearing loss. It can be defined as referring to those for whom the sense of hearing is nonfunctional for the ordinary purposes of life. IDEA 2004 (the Individuals with Disabilities Education Improvement Act, or PL 108–446) describes deafness as a hearing loss that adversely affects educational performance and is so severe that the child is impaired in processing linguistic information (communication) through hearing, with or without amplification (hearing aids). The term Deaf, used with a capital D, refers to those individuals who want to be identified with Deaf culture. It is inappropriate and misleading to use the term deaf in reference to any hearing loss that is mild or moderate in degree.

BOTH PEARSON EDUCATION AND THE NONPROFIT Center for Applied Linguistics (CAL) have promoted SIOP as an all-purpose educational product: a tool for evaluating teachers, a template for lesson planning and “delivery,” and a course of professional development. They advertise their model as ideal not only for English learners (pre-K–12 and adult), but also for mainstream and special education students in the United States, as well as language students worldwide. Clearly, they believe the market potential is vast.

The principles through which Cross-linguistic Influence affects L2 acquisition of word-formation devices to pre intermediate L2 learners: Orthographic and Phonological Overlap, and Morphological Translation Equivalence. Orthographic and Phonological Overlap: Rather than affixes possessing Semantic Transparency, like agentive suffixes -er, acquired early by English children acquiring their L1, L2 learners acquire more easily those L2 affixes which are identical in their Orthographic and Phonological components with their counterparts in pupils’ L1. Morphological Translation Equivalence: Roots and affixes forming L2 complex words may share Translation Equivalence with their counterparts (i. e. roots and affixes) forming their homologous complex word in pupils’ L1. The root and the suffix of the English derived word readable share Translation Equivalence with the root and suffix forming the derived Dutch word leesbaar. Besides, the same word-formation rule is applied to both of these derived words (e. g. transitive verbs read, lees plus suffix –able/-baar resulting in adjectives readable leesbaar); which suggests that such pair derivatives of the two languages share both Morphological and Translation Equivalence. Studying the acquisition of English affixes at pre intermediate Spanish speaking English learning pupils, Balteiro, I. (2011, 31) brings to a close that, first, L2 “learners acquire and learn more easily (1) those lexical items whose prefixes are either identical or at least similar to those in the mother tongue”, and, second, assesses that “(2) the learners’ native language plays an important role in the study of L2 morphology, as it is often used as a starting point to form similar derived units in the L2” (2011, 32).

Hence, L2 learners easily detect the L2 stem when its counterpart is a stem in pupils L1, or, in other words, when the counterpart of the L2 derived word is a derived word in pupils’ L1 which L2 learners can decompose. We may also uphold that the transfer of decomposition capability of L1 derivatives to L2 derivatives is more evident when the pair derivatives of the two languages share Morphological Translation Equivalence (i. e., when the pair roots and affixes of the two languages share Translation Equivalence and the same rule for their combinations applies in both languages). On the other hand, L2 learners are presumed to be less likely to decompose the L2 derivative when its counterpart is not a derived word in pupils’ L1.

We are warned about the pitfalls that open up before us if we fail to recognize the linguistic usage we are faced with. We are advised not to try to discover meanings beyond, or behind, those the original writers intended (had Caird lived to see the full flowering of postmodernism, we can predict what his reaction might have been). He points out that when the biblical writers used a word, we should not assume they meant what we today would mean by it – advice that, if heeded, would enable a good many theologians, both scholarly and popular, to stop wasting time and to concentrate on the real issues. He remarks that those who apply surgery to a biblical text are, as often as not, tacitly admitting their failure to understand it.

Simply put, democracy is viewed exclusively as a set of principles of government that, like the grammar of a language, can be delineated, taught, and applied so that when uttered, it will sound the same regardless of habits of reading or listening. This trend towards a grammatical and linguistic common sense also finds expression in theoretical de- bates about normativity and deontology in contemporary liberalism.

It is commonly supposed that Russians have been endowed by Nature with a peculiar linguistic talent. Their own language, it is said, is so difficult that they have no difficulty in acquiring others. This common belief requires, as it seems to me, some explanation. That highly educated Russians are better linguists than the educated classes of Western Europe there can be no possible doubt, for they almost always speak French, and often English and German also. The question, however, is whether this is the result of a psychological peculiarity, or of other causes. Now, without venturing to deny the existence of a natural faculty, I should say that the other causes have at least exercised a powerful influence. Any Russian who wishes to be regarded as civilise must possess at least one foreign language; and, as a consequence of this, the children of the upper classes are always taught at least French in their infancy. Many households comprise a German nurse, a French tutor, and an English governess; and the children thus become accustomed from their earliest years to the use of these three languages. Besides this, Russian is phonetically very rich and contains nearly all the sounds which are to be found in West-European tongues. Perhaps on the whole it would be well to apply here the Darwinian theory, and suppose that the Russian Noblesse, having been obliged for several generations to acquire foreign languages, have gradually developed a hereditary polyglot talent.

From the sixteenth century onwards, prescriptive works in Britain largely follow Priscian’s Latin model. Bullokar’s Bref Grammar for English (1586), for example, takes the eight Priscianic word classes set out in William Lily’s Grammar of Latin in English (c.1540) and applies them to English; the prescriptions of Robert Lowth’s Introduction to English Grammar (1762) are likewise informed by Latin, and even by 1795, Lindley Murray’s English Grammar was arguing for three nominal cases (nominative, genitive, accusative), justified on the model of Latin, in spite of the fact that English – then as now – only regularly distinguishes nominative and accusative in pronouns (he saw me vs. I saw him). While prescriptive grammarians of English are no longer as in thrall to Latin as they once were, many complaints about ‘bad’ English, as we saw in Chapter 1, start from assumptions about Latin grammar. Simon Heffer’s Strictly English: The correct way to write… and why it matters, published in 2011, still condemns the use of split infinitives, though its author seems more relaxed than his predecessors about ending sentences with prepositions (p.

The reason for their ire goes back to the eighteenth century, and an analogy drawn by grammarians between Latin and English. English infinitives supported by the preposition to were required to remain fused as single unit, like their one-word Latin counterparts, e.g. amare (to love). The grammar of English was for many years described using the same categories as those applied to Latin, and many of our prescriptive rules (e.g. that one should not end a sentence with a preposition, or that one should say ‘It is I’ rather than ‘It is me’) derive ultimately from Latin. But it’s patently nonsensical to require one language to follow the rules of another, and English is very different from Latin in almost every respect.

We use language to describe experiences, but language itself isn’t experience. It exists on its own, independent of experience, yet applicable to any experience. And that’s exactly what consciousness is. It applies to experience – allowing us to knowledgably reflect on experience – but it definitely isn’t the experience itself, contrary to what almost all of humanity believes. Hardly anyone understands that consciousness can be totally detached from experience and put to completely different uses.

The family tree model is a useful presentational tool which has been successfully applied to other language groups, for example Eskimo-Aleut, Sino-Tibetan or Austro-Asiatic, but it is nonetheless misleading in a number of respects. Firstly, it takes far too little account of language contact (see Case study on next page): the dotted arrow in the diagram above is an attempt to represent the very strong lexical influence of (Norman) French on Middle English, which belong to quite separate branches of the Indo-European trunk. The branching works well where there is a physical separation between speaker groups, allowing varieties to develop independently, as in the case of Afrikaans and Dutch, but in most cases the picture is rather messier, with branches often confusingly intertwined.

Insofar as gender applies to inanimates, its assignment often seems arbitrary: the word for ‘sun’, for example, is masculine in Spanish (sol), feminine in German (Sonne) and neuter in Russian (solntse). For this reason, some linguists prefer the term noun classification to gender, which we have used here.

what’s known as linguistic concreteness. Three ways to apply it are to: (1) make people feel heard, (2) make the abstract concrete, and (3) know when it’s better to be abstract.

principles. In officially bilingual Brussels, street names and all public institutions are given in both official languages, French and Dutch, and all public services must by law be provided in both languages. Outside the capital, however, the Territory Principle applies, according to which French-speaking Belgians are required to use Dutch in the neerlandophone zone and vice-versa, with no official accommodation to the other language in either case.

Belgium’s chequered linguistic history shows that neither principle, even when sensitively applied, is without difficulties. Dutch speakers resent the fact that French now dominates in the capital, a city squarely in the Dutch-speaking zone. They also complain of the tache d’huile (oil slick) effect, in which Brussels-based francophones take residence in officially Dutch-speaking suburbs, and turn them into de facto francophone areas. French speakers, on the other hand, resent being required to use Dutch in areas where they have become the majority language group.

Without language, there are no beliefs, ideology, or religion,” John E. Joseph, a professor of applied linguistics at the University of Edinburgh, wrote to me from Scotland. “These concepts require a language as a condition of their existence.” Without language, there are no “cults.

The truthful—though unhelpful—answer to the question: "How did we come by our primary knowledge of causality?" is that in learning to speak we learned the linguistic representation and application of a host of causal concepts. Very many of them were represented by transitive and other verbs of action used in reporting what is observed. Others—a good example is "infect"—form, not observation statements, but rather expressions of causal hypotheses. The word "cause" itself is highly general. How does someone show that he has the concept cause? We may wish to say: only by having such a word in his vocabulary. If so, then the manifest possession of the concept presupposes the mastery of much else in language. I mean: the word "cause" can be added to a language in which are already represented many causal concepts. A small selection: scrape, push, wet, carry, eat, burn, knock over, keep off, squash, make (e.g. noises, paper boats), hurt. But if we care to imagine languages in which no special causal concepts are represented, then no description of the use of a word in such languages will be able to present it as meaning cause. Nor will it even contain words for natural kinds of stuff, nor yet words equivalent to "body", "wind", or "fire". For learning to use special causal verbs is part and parcel of learning to apply the concepts answer to these and many other substantives. As surely as we learned to call people by name or to report from seeing it that the cat was on the table, we also learned to report from having observed it that someone drank up the milk or that the dog made a funny noise or that things were cut or broken by whatever we saw cut or break them.

Pair prefixed words of the two languages share Morphological Translation Equivalence as well (e. g. unemployed, disoccupato). Likewise, roots forming pair compounds of the two languages may share Translation Equivalence. Besides, the same rule for the combination of roots may apply in the two languages (e. g. welcome, benvenuto). Such pair compounds of the two languages share Morphological Translation Equivalence as well.

When we apply motivated reasoning to assessments about ourselves, we produce that positive picture of a world in which we are all above average. If we’re better at grammar than arithmetic, we give linguistic knowledge more weight in our view of what is important, whereas if we are good at adding but bad at grammar, we think language skills just aren’t that crucial. If we are ambitious, determined, and persistent, we believe that goal-oriented people make the most effective leaders; if we see ourselves as approachable, friendly, and extroverted, we feel that the best leaders are people-oriented. We even recruit our memories to brighten our picture of ourselves.

With the natural caution of a scientist venturing outside his field, Dr. Cannon concluded his study of 'The Wisdom of the Body' with the suggestion that the model of the living organism might be applied with advantage to the larger human community. Since technologies and economic systems are themselves products of life, it is not strange that, to the degree that they work effectively at all, they have incorporated many organic devices not in line with their own abstract ideological or institutional premises. But because brain physiology, dream exploration, and linguistic analysis were all outside his are of high competence Dr. Cannon never faced the central problem that arose, at a very early point, I suspect, once the enlargement of man's neural functions enabled him to escape the automatism of his reflexes and hormones. how under those conditions to prevent the brain from succumbing to its own disorderly hyperactivity, once liberated from the bodily functions and environmental contacts and social pressures necessary for its existence? The need to recognize this special source of instability coming from the extraordinary powers of the mind, and to take measures for overcoming it, is not the least lesson to be drawn from man's historic development. In so far as automatic systems become more lifelike as well as more powerful, they carry with them the threat of increasing human irrationality at higher levels. To follow an organic model, then, not only the system as a whole must be kept in view, but each individual part must be in a state of alertness, ready to intervene at any point in the process and take over.

Though Olsen's (1999) descriptive study of Norwegian EFL learners focused primarily on cross-linguistic influences on learner errors, one interesting conclusion was that external factors such as teaching confusing pairs such as sea and see, by and buy, want and won't, or lose and loose at the same time actually causes errors. Olsen recommends that each word be taught in its own context at different times.

Nor do I take all learning to consist in the knowlege of languages. All learning! — Nor I, madam — But if you place not learning in language, be so good as to tell us what do you place it in? He nodded his head with an air, as if he had said, This pretty Miss is got out of her depth. I believe I shall have her now. I would rather, Sir, said I, be an hearer than a speaker; and the one would better become me than the other. I answered Sir Hargrave, because he thought proper to apply to me. And I, madam, apply to you likewise. Then, Sir, I have been taught to think, that a learned man and a linguist may very well be two persons: In other words, That science, or knowlege, and not language merely, is learning.

Wittgenstein aimed to achieve complete clarity in order that philosophical problems would completely disappear. To do this he sought to draw the boundaries between sense and nonsense, to apply a pragmatic criterion of meaning in order to judge the sensibility of philosophical utterances, and spoke strongly against metaphysical statements. Therefore, we cannot avoid concluding that Wittgenstein held that there are norms or standards for use and misuse of language; he aimed to purify legitimate usages and to decree what is legitimate and what is not. Linguistic use would guide him to the limits of the sayable. However, on the other hand, Wittgenstein took a very non-revolutionary attitude towards his philosophizing. He determined to leave language just as it is, for ordinary language leaves nothing to explain, already possesses perfect order, and is adequate for our needs. Hence he definitely renounced the goal of reforming language. Moreover, such reform would be impossible, since linguistic situations are not completely bounded by rules, and with the countless different kinds of use of language and their fluidity, no universal norms could be found. Thus there is no specific standard for linguistic use, and everyone is left to follow his own language games-blindly. Therefore, we cannot avoid concluding that Wittgenstein denied any definite guide for the limits of the sayable. In light of the two previous paragraphs we can understand the failure of Wittgenstein's philosophy; it has created its own antinomy or self-vitiation. Wittgenstein was simultaneously being a rationalist and an irrationalist, an absolutist and relativist; he set out to do prescription, but limited himself to description. Linguistic use was to be guided by rules in order to achieve clarity; yet usage was completely open-ended and immune to permanent standards. He promoted a new method for philosophy, but denied that philosophy had any one method; his position led him both to castigate previous philosophies and to endorse them as one practice or custom among many. This dialectic in his thought, along with his inherent (post-Kantian idealistic) skepticism, and in the long run the arbitrariness with which his epistemology ends up, all point out his failure to lay the disquieting questions of the theory of knowledge to rest.