Course In General Linguistics Quotes

Without language, thought is a vague, uncharted nebula.

Psychologically our thought-apart from its expression in words-is only a shapeless and indistinct mass.

Time changes all things; there is no reason why language should escape this universal law

Speech has both an individual and a social side, and we cannot conceive of one without the other.

In my own professional work I have touched on a variety of different fields. I’ve done work in mathematical linguistics, for example, without any professional credentials in mathematics; in this subject I am completely self-taught, and not very well taught. But I’ve often been invited by universities to speak on mathematical linguistics at mathematics seminars and colloquia. No one has ever asked me whether I have the appropriate credentials to speak on these subjects; the mathematicians couldn’t care less. What they want to know is what I have to say. No one has ever objected to my right to speak, asking whether I have a doctor’s degree in mathematics, or whether I have taken advanced courses in the subject. That would never have entered their minds. They want to know whether I am right or wrong, whether the subject is interesting or not, whether better approaches are possible… the discussion dealt with the subject, not with my right to discuss it. But on the other hand, in discussion or debate concerning social issues or American foreign policy…. The issue is constantly raised, often with considerable venom. I’ve repeatedly been challenged on grounds of credentials, or asked, what special training do I have that entitles you to speak on these matters. The assumption is that people like me, who are outsiders from a professional viewpoint, are not entitled to speak on such things. Compare mathematics and the political sciences… it’s quite striking. In mathematics, in physics, people are concerned with what you say, not with your certification. But in order to speak about social reality, you must have the proper credentials, particularly if you depart from the accepted framework of thinking. Generally speaking, it seems fair to say that the richer the intellectual substance of a field, the less there is a concern for credentials, and the greater is the concern for content.

For the study of language to remain solely the business of a handful of specialists would be a quite unacceptable state of affairs. In practice, the study of language is in some degree or other the concern of everyone. But a paradoxical consequence of this general interest is that no other subject has fostered more absurd notions, more prejudices, more illusions, or more fantasies. From a psychological point of view, these errors are of interest in themselves. But it is the primary task of the linguist to denounce them, and to eradicate them as completely as possible.

I had my Theory about interjections of this kind: ever single Person has their own expression which he or she overuses. Or uses incorrectly. These words or phrases are the key to their intellect. Mr. "Apparently," Mr. "Generally," Mrs. "Probably," Mr. "Fucking," Mrs. "Don't You Think?," Mr. "As If,". The President was Mr. "In Truth." Of course there are entire fashions for some words, just like the ones that for some crazy reason suddenly make everyone going about in identical shoes or clothes - people just as suddenly start using one particular word or phrase. Recently the word, "generally" was fashionable, but now "actually" is out in front.

But from an evolutionary standpoint, there are good grounds to assert that “language” is indeed a natural phenomenon, which originates in the molecular language of the genome and has found, in the course of evolution, its hitherto highest expression in human language (Küppers, 1995). For evolutionary biologists, there is no question as to whether languages below the level of human language exist; the issue is rather about identifying the general conditions under which linguistic structures originate and evolve.

Basically, it was p’ch’zarni’chiwkov. This epiglottis-throttling word is seldom used on the Disc except by highly paid stunt linguists and, of course, the tiny tribe of the K’turni, who invented it. It has no direct synonym, although the Cumhoolie word “squernt” (“the feeling upon finding that the previous occupant of the privy has used all the paper”) begins to approach it in general depth of feeling. The closest translation is as follows: the nasty little sound of a sword being unsheathed right behind one at just the point when one thought one had disposed of one’s enemies

One thing consumed drugs all have in common, is our initial natural aversion toward them. The first mouthful of alcohol we drink is generally followed by an involuntary grimace. The first puff on a chemical-laden cigarette is followed often by a cough and splutter as the body tries to repel the alien pollution thrust upon it. Our first coffee and tea are generally also greeted somewhat similarly. Of course, it is frequently the case that despite these initial reactions, we push on past them until addiction is formed. Cooked food, although noticeably less recognised as addictive, evokes no less an initial reaction. Think of all those babies whose faces screw up in displeasure vainly attempting rejection of the denatured slop thrust upon them, and the hours spent crying from stomach pains. By the time they are advanced enough to linguistically voice their lack of desire for such foods, they are, alas, already well hooked.

The NPs in Figure 7.1 have an internal constituent generally known as ‘N-bar’ (N' or ), which we have not yet mentioned. N-bars may consist solely of nouns or, as here, of nouns with qualifiers, excluding determiners (i.e. articles, demonstrative or possessive adjectives, or quantifiers such as many) and adjuncts. They need to be treated as sub-constituents of the NP by virtue of certain properties which they alone have. For example, in complex noun phrases, they can generally be replaced by the pro-form one, a property not lost on the writers of Friends in the 1990s. In each of these titles one can be replaced by, for example, ‘episode’, ‘Friends episode’, or even ‘weekly Friends episode’: •  The One with the Sonogram at the End •  The One Where Underdog Gets Away •  The One After the Ski Trip

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)

We become so accustomed to this state of affairs that we come to think of acting as synonymous with ‘performing’ – that is, putting on a show for the benefit of those watching. This is reinforced by some linguistic confusion around the word ‘acting’. To the general public it means pretending or lying. Professional actors, of course, know that acting is actually about telling the truth. After all, what do we mean by ‘bad acting’ other than that we don’t believe what we’re seeing? And yet, most of us probably implicitly consider engaging directly with an audience as inherent in acting. Meisner’s greatest contribution to acting was probably a philosophical one. By defining it as ‘living truthfully in imaginary circumstances’, he took performance out of the equation.

As nation states emerged in Europe, the need to develop national standard languages became keenly felt. Prescriptive linguistic works condemned all but the usage of a narrow social elite. Grammars of European languages generally followed the Latin model of Priscian, for which in many cases they were unsuited. Many modern prescriptive rules of English derive ultimately from Latin grammar.

One criterion might be mutual intelligibility: while we wouldn't expect to understand another language, we might well understand a different dialect of a language we do speak. But this criterion soon poses problems. The ‘dialects’ of Chinese (e.g. Mandarin, Hokkien, Cantonese) share a writing system but are mutually unintelligible, whereas the Scandinavian ‘languages’ Swedish, Danish and Norwegian are similar enough to be mutually comprehensible (sometimes with a little effort). The difference in practice is generally determined on socio-political rather than linguistic grounds: we tend to associate languages with nation states where they are spoken. Or, as cynics would have it: ‘a language is a dialect with an army and a navy’. To avoid problems of this kind, linguists talk of language varieties.

In non-pro-drop languages, some specified subjects have no obvious referent. What, precisely, is raining in it is raining, for example, and what does ‘it’ refer to in it is clear that we need a new plan? Likewise there in There is a lot of confusion has no referent and serves only to satisfy a requirement that English verbs have a specified subject. Subjects like these, which have a purely grammatical role, are generally known as dummy subjects.

English at this time was very much the ‘poor relation’ of the three in terms of prestige, and this lowly status of English post-Norman conquest finds echoes in the modern English lexicon. When people say: ‘He uttered an Anglo-Saxon expression’ as a euphemism for ‘he swore’, they do so with good reason: much of our modern earthy or taboo vocabulary carries the stigma of low-status English in medieval England, while its socially acceptable equivalents have generally been borrowed from Norman French. The social divide between the new ruling class and the subjugated English is also evident elsewhere in the lexicon. Pork, mutton and beef, delicacies available only to the Norman-speaking élites in the Middle Ages, are terms of Anglo-Norman origin, but the names of the animals which provide them, pig, sheep and cow, all come from Anglo-Saxon, the language of the farmers who produced the meat for the rulers’ table.

Another important internal process is grammaticalization, by which a full lexical word acquires a grammatical function. An example here is back, which in its original meaning refers to the rear of the human torso, a meaning lost in the complex preposition at the back of, meaning ‘behind’. Similarly, the negative particle pas in French originally had only its full lexical meaning of ‘step’, and was used to reinforce the negative ne with some related verbs, e.g. il ne marcha pas (‘He did not walk a step’). But gradually in negative contexts it lost the meaning ‘step’ and became a general marker of negation, e.g Il ne parle pas (‘He does not speak’, not ‘He doesn’t speak a step’). The loss of lexical meaning that accompanies grammaticalization is known as semantic bleaching; very often phonetic reduction is also involved as the item evolves from lexical to functional unit (see Case study below).

Externally motivated change is generally slow in communities where social networks are dense and multiplex, particularly in isolated areas where there are few weak ties to other networks. Conversely, in communities characterized by low-density social networks, change is more rapid because there are large numbers of weak ties between networks, which facilitate the transmission of new variants.

Diglossia may or may not involve individual bilingualism. In many diglossic situations, speakers control both varieties and use them according to the circumstances of the speech situation. Early-nineteenth-century Tsarist Russia, on the other hand, was a diglossic society with very little bilingualism: the French-speaking elite generally did not speak Russian (L) and the peasantry generally had little French (H).

The simple past (or ‘past historic’) forms on the left locate an action entirely in the past, while the perfect tense forms on the right signal that a past action has present relevance. In spoken French, only the perfect tense is used, so j’ai fait now means both ‘I did’ and ‘I have done’, and the subtle distinction between the two, generally retained in English (see Spotlight above), has been lost from the tense system.

We are merely epigones. The events, the discoveries, the visions are those from the period between 1910 and 1940. We live on like weary commentators on that frenzied period in which the whole invention of modernity (and the lucid presentiment of its end) occurred in a language which still bore the brilliance of style. The highest level of intensity lies behind us. The lowest level of passion and intellectual illumination lies ahead of us. There is something like a general entropic movement in the century, the initial energy dissipating slowly in the sophisticated ramifications of the structural, pictural, ideological, linguistic and psychoanalytic revolutions - the final configuration, that of 'postmodernity' marking the most degraded, most factitious and most eclectic phase, the shattered fetishism of all the idols and the purer signs that have preceded it. Even the great burst of light in the years 1960-80, seen with some critical distance, will merely have been an episode in the involutive course of the century, in terms of powerful new ideas. But a portent all the same. Might a new event produce some surprise? We can say nothing of this, since archives and analysis are twilight tools.

In the field of suppressed languages there are many now that attract more attention ... Basque ... Breton ... Romany.... They all sign up for those.... Not that they study the language: nobody wants to do that these days.... They want problems to debate, general ideas to connect with other general ideas. My colleagues adjust, follow the mainstream, give their courses titles like ‘Sociology of Welsh,’ 'Psycho-linguistics of Provençal.”...