Verb Forms Quotes

Autumn teaches us that fruition is also death; that ripeness is a form of decay. The willows, having stood for so long near water, begin to rust. Leaves are verbs that conjugate the seasons.

He had been thinking of how landscape moulds a language. It was impossible to imagine these hills giving forth anything but the soft syllables of Irish, just as only certain forms of German could be spoken on the high crags of Europe; or Dutch in the muddy, guttural, phlegmish lowlands.

Here’s the thing, effective parenting and, more specifically, effective discipline, don’t require punishment. Equating discipline with punishment is an unfortunate, but common misconception. The root word in discipline is actually disciple which in the verb form means to guide, lead, teach, model, and encourage. In the noun form disciple means one who embraces the teaching of, follows the example of, and models their life after.

Monster” is derived from the Latin noun monstrum, “divine portent,” itself formed on the root of the verb monere, “to warn.” It came to refer to living things of anomalous shape or structure, or to fabulous creatures like the sphinx who were composed of strikingly incongruous parts, because the ancients considered the appearance of such beings to be a sign of some impending supernatural event. Monsters, like angels, functioned as messengers and heralds of the extraordinary. They served to announce impending revelation, saying, in effect, “Pay attention; something of profound importance is happening.

Equating discipline with punishment is an unfortunate, but common misconception. The root word in discipline is actually disciple which in the verb form means to guide, lead, teach, model, and encourage. In the noun form disciple means one who embraces the teaching of, follows the example of, and models their life after.

Do not put statements in the negative form. And don't start sentences with a conjunction. If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing. Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do. Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all. De-accession euphemisms. If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is. Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky. Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.

Not long ago, I advertised for perverse rules of grammar, along the lines of "Remember to never split an infinitive" and "The passive voice should never be used." The notion of making a mistake while laying down rules ("Thimk," "We Never Make Misteaks") is highly unoriginal, and it turns out that English teachers have been circulating lists of fumblerules for years. As owner of the world's largest collection, and with thanks to scores of readers, let me pass along a bunch of these never-say-neverisms: * Avoid run-on sentences they are hard to read. * Don't use no double negatives. * Use the semicolon properly, always use it where it is appropriate; and never where it isn't. * Reserve the apostrophe for it's proper use and omit it when its not needed. * Do not put statements in the negative form. * Verbs has to agree with their subjects. * No sentence fragments. * Proofread carefully to see if you any words out. * Avoid commas, that are not necessary. * If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing. * A writer must not shift your point of view. * Eschew dialect, irregardless. * And don't start a sentence with a conjunction. * Don't overuse exclamation marks!!! * Place pronouns as close as possible, especially in long sentences, as of 10 or more words, to their antecedents. * Writers should always hyphenate between syllables and avoid un-necessary hyph-ens. * Write all adverbial forms correct. * Don't use contractions in formal writing. * Writing carefully, dangling participles must be avoided. * It is incumbent on us to avoid archaisms. * If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is. * Steer clear of incorrect forms of verbs that have snuck in the language. * Take the bull by the hand and avoid mixed metaphors. * Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky. * Never, ever use repetitive redundancies. * Everyone should be careful to use a singular pronoun with singular nouns in their writing. * If I've told you once, I've told you a thousand times, resist hyperbole. * Also, avoid awkward or affected alliteration. * Don't string too many prepositional phrases together unless you are walking through the valley of the shadow of death. * Always pick on the correct idiom. * "Avoid overuse of 'quotation "marks."'" * The adverb always follows the verb. * Last but not least, avoid cliches like the plague; seek viable alternatives." (New York Times, November 4, 1979; later also published in book form)

The biologist Robin Wall Kimmerer, a member of the Citizen Potawatomi Nation, observes that the indigenous Potawatomi language is rich in verb forms that attribute aliveness to the more-than-human world. The word for “hill,” for example, is a verb: to be a hill. Hills are always in the process of hilling, they are actively being hills.

The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have sprung from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists; there is a similar reason, though not quite so forcible, for supposing that both the Gothic and the Celtic, though blended with a very different idiom, had the same origin with the Sanscrit; and the old Persian might be added to the same family.

Many are the scholars who make it their professional occupation to occupy themselves in this towering edifice of culture, exploring its nook and crannies, developing their responses, making their contributions here and there, and helping to hand it on to succeeding generations. For some the temptation proves irresistible to go yet farther and make this the concern of their lives, letting society go its own sorry way while they lock themselves away in this abiding, socially transcendent cultural stronghold, acquiescing in society while pursuing Bildung. As Rotterdam burns, they study Sanskrit verb forms.

Literature composed by women was stored not in books but in female bodies, living repositories of poetry and song. I have come across a line of argument in my reading, which posits that, due to the inherent fallibility of memory and the imperfect human vessels that held it, the Caoineadh cannot be considered a work of single authorship. Rather, the theory goes, it must be considered collage, or, perhaps, a folky reworking of older keens. This, to me --- in the brazen audacity of one positioned far from the tall walls of the university --- feels like a male assertion pressed upon a female text. After all, the etymology of the word ‘text’ lies in the Latin verb ‘texere’: to weave, to fuse, to braid. The Caoineadh form belongs to a literary genre worked and woven by women, entwining strands of female voices that were carried in female bodies, a phenomenon that seems to me cause for wonder and admiration, rather than suspicion of authorship.

Like prepositional phrases, certain structural arrangements in English are much more important than the small bones of grammar in its most technical sense. It really wouldn't matter much if we started dropping the s from our plurals. Lots of words get along without it anyway, and in most cases context would be enough to indicate number. Even the distinction between singular and plural verb forms is just as much a polite convention as an essential element of meaning. But the structures, things like passives and prepositional phrases, constitute, among other things, an implicit system of moral philosophy, a view of the world and its presumed meanings, and their misuse therefore often betrays an attitude or value that the user might like to disavow.

Every form is an image. Every image is a name. Every name is an attribute, every attribute a verb. Every verb forms the sentence to be read on Judgement Day, from the very Qur’aanulQariim that is found within the breastplate of all that is ‘created’ in the form of humankind. Every object be it animated or non-animated is an image!!

Bulldogs are wonderful creatures to include in books. Besides their adorable bulldogishness, they provide the writer with a rare chance to use forms of the verb "snuffle.

It’s just that without wanting to or trying to—and for years I was deliberately trying not to—I held on to love. Or it held on to me. Not active love; not love, the verb form. It was more just there, a small, unshakable thing, leftover, useless, as vestigial as wisdom teeth or a tailbone, but still potent enough so that when I heard his voice on the phone, my heart gave a tiny jump of hope that made me want to slap it.

This acquiring of a new viewpoint in Zen is called *satori* (*wu* in Chinese) and its verb form is *satoru*. Without it there is no Zen, for the life of Zen begins with the "opening of *satori*". *Satori* may be defined as intuitive looking-into, in contradistinction to intellectual and logical understanding. Whatever the definition, *satori* means the unfolding of a new world hitherto unperceived in the confusion of the dualistic mind.

Speech baffled my machine. Helen made all well-formed sentences. But they were hollow and stuffed--linguistic training bras. She sorted nouns from verbs, but, disembodied, she did not know the difference between thing and process, except as they functioned in clauses. Her predications were all shotgun weddings. Her ideas were as decorative as half-timber beams that bore no building load. She balked at metaphor. I felt the annoyance of her weighted vectors as they readjusted themselves, trying to accommodate my latest caprice. You're hungry enough to eat a horse. A word from a friend ties your stomach in knots. Embarrassment shrinks you, amazement strikes you dead. Wasn't the miracle enough? Why do humans need to say everything in speech's stockhouse except what they mean?

Ecthelion must be similarly from Aegthelion. Latter element is a derivative of √stel 'remain firm'. The form with prefix 'sundóma', estel, was used in Q{uenya} and S{indarin} for 'hope' – sc. a temper of mind, steady, fixed in purpose, and difficult to dissuade and unlikely to fall into despair or abandon its purpose. The unprefixed stel- gave [? S verb] thel 'intend, mean, purpose, resolve, will'. So Q ? þelma 'a fixed idea,..., will.

It has been brought to my attention that I may be a verbivore. I consumptor of words, that I subsequently spew forth with considerable consternation. A Volley of verbs that are quite vexing has taken form, perhaps under the guise of consonants most foul!! Where have you wandered faithful vowels?

The Greek word epos means simply “word” or “story” or “song.” It is related to a verb meaning “to say” or “to tell,” which is used (in a form with a prefix) in the first line of the poem. The narrator commands the Muse, “Tell me”: enn-epe. An epic poem is, at its root, simply a tale that is told.

Racism quickly came to color the English usage of the Sanskrit word arya, the word that the Vedic poets used to refer to themselves, meaning “Us” or “Good Guys,” long before anyone had a concept of race. Properly speaking, “Aryan” (as it became in English) designates a linguistic family, not a racial group (just as Indo-European is basically a linguistic rather than demographic term); there are no Aryan noses, only Aryan verbs, no Aryan people, only Aryan-speaking people. Granted, the Sanskrit term does refer to people rather than to a language. But the people who spoke *Indo-European were not a people in the sense of a nation (for they may never have formed a political unity) or a race, but only in the sense of a linguistic community.10 After all those migrations, the blood of several different races had mingled in their veins.

She had learnt the lingo, but only to speak to her servants, so she knew none of the politer forms and of the verbs only the imperative mood,

She had learnt the lingo, but only to speak to her servants, so she knew none of the politer forms and of the verbs only the imperative mood.

The future form of the verb is the imbecile’s favorite tense.

I once asked her if she was happy. “That depends on what I am able to get done today,” she said, laughing. She told me that the completion of her daily tasks was the only thing she felt she had control over. They were a form of meditation, of salve. Kept busy, she had no time to ruminate and no time for opinions, certainly not feminist ones. I pressed her: “I mean, are you happy with your life, Rajima?” “I don’t know,” she said uncomfortably, as if she’d never really considered such a question. “When there is little you can do, you do what you can.” Happiness for my grandmother seemed to be a verb rather than a noun. She had so little control over her own life. Yet she took control, out of thin air for herself, when she could.

Words: repositories for singular realities which they then transform into moments in an anthology, magicians that change the face of reality by adorning it with the right to become memorable, to be placed in a library of memories. Life exists only by virtue of the osmosis of words and facts, where the former encase the latter in ceremonial dress. Thus, the words of my chance acquaintances, crowning the meal with an unprecedented grace, had almost formed the substance of my feast in spite of myself, and what I had enjoyed so merrily was the verb, not the meat.

What Hero loved most wasn’t the cadre names people chose, but the word kasama itself: kasama, pakikisama. In Ilocano, the closest word was kadwa. Kadwa, makikadwa. Companion, but that English word didn’t quite capture its force. Kasama was more like the glowing, capacious form of the word with: with as verb, noun, adjective, and adverb, with as a way of life. A world of with-ing.

The cause of the onset of overgeneralization [of regular past tense forms to irregular verbs] is not a change in vocabulary statistics, but some endogenous change in the child's language mechanisms.

Because this painting has never been restored there is a heightened poignance to it somehow; it doesn’t have the feeling of unassailable permanence that paintings in museums do. There is a small crack in the lower left, and a little of the priming between the wooden panel and the oil emulsions of paint has been bared. A bit of abrasion shows, at the rim of a bowl of berries, evidence of time’s power even over this—which, paradoxically, only seems to increase its poetry, its deep resonance. If you could see the notes of a cello, when the bow draws slowly and deeply across its strings, and those resonant reverberations which of all instruments’ are nearest to the sound of the human voice emerge—no, the wrong verb, they seem to come into being all at once, to surround us, suddenly, with presence—if that were made visible, that would be the poetry of Osias Beert. But the still life resides in absolute silence. Portraits often seem pregnant with speech, or as if their subjects have just finished saying something, or will soon speak the thoughts that inform their faces, the thoughts we’re invited to read. Landscapes are full of presences, visible or unseen; soon nymphs or a stag or a band of hikers will make themselves heard. But no word will ever be spoken here, among the flowers and snails, the solid and dependable apples, this heap of rumpled books, this pewter plate on which a few opened oysters lie, giving up their silver. These are resolutely still, immutable, poised for a forward movement that will never occur. The brink upon which still life rests is the brink of time, the edge of something about to happen. Everything that we know crosses this lip, over and over, like water over the edge of a fall, as what might happen does, as any of the endless variations of what might come true does so, and things fall into being, tumble through the progression of existing in time. Painting creates silence. You could examine the objects themselves, the actors in a Dutch still life—this knobbed beaker, this pewter salver, this knife—and, lovely as all antique utilitarian objects are, they are not, would not be, poised on the edge these same things inhabit when they are represented. These things exist—if indeed they are still around at all—in time. It is the act of painting them that makes them perennially poised, an emergent truth about to be articulated, a word waiting to be spoken. Single word that has been forming all these years in the light on the knife’s pearl handle, in the drops of moisture on nearly translucent grapes: At the end of time, will that word be said?

At one stage in the history of English, the past tenses of verbs were marked by a regular vowel change process; instead of “help/helped,” we had “help/holp.” Over time, -ed became the preferred way to mark the past tense, and eventually the past tense of most verbs was formed by adding -ed. But the old pattern was preserved in verbs like “eat/ate,” “give/gave,” “take/ took,” “get/got”—verbs that are used very often, and so are more entrenched as a linguistic habit (the very frequently used “was/ were” is a holdover from an even older pattern). They became irregular because the world changed around them.

The teacher claimed it was so plain, I only had to use my brain. She said the past of throw was threw, The past of grow – of course – was grew, So flew must be the past of fly, And now, my boy, your turn to try. But when I trew, I had no clue, If mow was mew Like know and knew (Or is it knowed Like snow and snowed?) The teacher frowned at me and said The past of feed was – plainly – fed. Fed up, I knew then what I ned: I took a break, and out I snoke, She shook and quook (or quaked? or quoke?) With raging anger out she broke: Your ignorance you want to hide? Tell me the past form of collide! But how on earth should I decide If it’s collid (Like hide and hid), Or else – from all that I surmose, The past of rise was simply rose, And that of ride was surely rode, So of collide must be collode? Oh damn these English verbs, I thought The whole thing absolutely stought! Of English I have had enough, These verbs of yours are far too tough. Bolt upright in my chair I sat, And said to her ‘that’s that’ – I quat.

Human being" is more a verb than a noun. Each of us is unfinished, a work in progress. Perhaps it would be most accurate to add the word "yet" to all our assessments of ourselves and each other . . . If life is process, all judgments are provisional, we can't judge something until it is finished. No one has won or lost until the race is over . . . In our instinctive attachments, our fear of change, and our wish for certainty and permanence, we may undercut the impermanence which is our greatest strength, our most fundamental identity. Without impermanence, there is no process. The nature of life is change. All hope is based on process . . . It is taken me somewhat longer to recognize that a diagnosis is simply another form of judgment. Naming a disease has limited usefulness. It does not capture life or even reflect it accurately. Illness, on the other hand, is a process, like life is. Much in the concept of diagnosis and cure is about fixing, and the narrow-bore focus on fixing people's problems can lead to denial of the power of their process. Years ago, I took full credit when people became well; their recovery was testimony to my skill and knowledge as a physician. I never recognized that without their biological, emotional, and spiritual process which could respond to my interventions, nothing could have changed at all. All the time I thought I was repairing, I was collaborating.

What is the meaning of the phrase “shall be bound in heaven... shall be loosed in heaven?” Williams, the Bible translator, points out for us that the verb form is the perfect passive participle, so the reference is to things in a state of having been already forbidden (or permitted). This tells us that whatever is bound or loosed by the believer is done on the basis that it has already been done “in heaven,” i.e. by the Lord himself. What is it, then, that the Lord has already bound and which he has given us power to bind again? Jesus teaches us: Or else how can one enter into a strong man’s house, and spoil his goods, except he first bind the strong man? and then he will spoil his house. Matt. 12:29 The context of this passage finds Jesus casting out demons. His authority for thus doing is challenged by the religious authorities. They accuse him of doing it by the power of the devil himself. Jesus is explaining that he is able to control demon spirits and make them obey him because he has already bound the strong man — Satan. The fact that the demons obey Him is evidence of Satan being bound. Satan is already bound “in heaven” — by heaven’s power. His power is broken. The key is given to us. We have power over him, too. Amen! The Greek word for “bind” in the passage before us is deo. It means to fasten or tie — as with chains, as an animal tied to keep it from straying. This is glorious! When Satan is bound he is made inoperable. He loses his ability to act against us.

When we understand that vacate is a form of the Latin verb meaning “be still,” we can understand more fully what scholar Simon Tugwell meant when he said, “God invites us to take a holiday [vacation], to stop being God for a while, and let him be God.”2

The Sanskrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of the verbs and in the forms of the grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong, indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three, without believing them to have sprung from some common source, which, perhaps, no longer exists.

Tables of Contents Introduction Chapter 1 Bonjour, France! Chapter 2 Numbers and Gender Chapter 3 Plural Forms of Nouns Chapter 4 Pronouns Chapter 5 Verbs Chapter 6 Prepositions Chapter 7 Useful Expressions Preview Of‘Spanish For Beginners’ Check Out My Other Books Conclusion

Day and night Balian studied Arabic, both the language of the street corner and the more formal prose of his oneiric teachers. It was not that he mastered the language but rather that it mastered him. He found himself thinking in a language in which nouns shaded imperceptibly into verbs, a language which seemed to discount being in the present, a language with a special verb form for colours and physical deformities, a language of rhythmic syntax and many tiered layers of sense, communicated through hawking stops, gutturals, odd emphases and doublings.

No institution of learning of Ingersoll's day had courage enough to confer upon him an honorary degree; not only for his own intellectual accomplishments, but also for his influence upon the minds of the learned men and women of his time and generation. Robert G. Ingersoll never received a prize for literature. The same prejudice and bigotry which prevented his getting an honorary college degree, militated against his being recognized as 'the greatest writer of the English language on the face of the earth,' as Henry Ward Beecher characterized him. Aye, in all the history of literature, Robert G. Ingersoll has never been excelled -- except by only one man, and that man was -- William Shakespeare. And yet there are times when Ingersoll even surpassed the immortal Bard. Yes, there are times when Ingersoll excelled even Shakespeare, in expressing human emotions, and in the use of language to express a thought, or to paint a picture. I say this fully conscious of my own admiration for that 'intellectual ocean, whose waves touched all the shores of thought.' Ingersoll was perfection himself. Every word was properly used. Every sentence was perfectly formed. Every noun, every verb and every object was in its proper place. Every punctuation mark, every comma, every semicolon, and every period was expertly placed to separate and balance each sentence. To read Ingersoll, it seems that every idea came properly clothed from his brain. Something rare indeed in the history of man's use of language in the expression of his thoughts. Every thought came from his brain with all the beauty and perfection of the full blown rose, with the velvety petals delicately touching each other. Thoughts of diamonds and pearls, rubies and sapphires rolled off his tongue as if from an inexhaustible mine of precious stones. Just as the cut of the diamond reveals the splendor of its brilliance, so the words and construction of the sentences gave a charm and beauty and eloquence to Ingersoll's thoughts. Ingersoll had everything: The song of the skylark; the tenderness of the dove; the hiss of the snake; the bite of the tiger; the strength of the lion; and perhaps more significant was the fact that he used each of these qualities and attributes, in their proper place, and at their proper time. He knew when to embrace with the tenderness of affection, and to resist and denounce wickedness and tyranny with that power of denunciation which he, and he alone, knew how to express.

The noun fylgja, formed from the verb "to follow, to accompany" (fylgja), referred in some ways to an individual's double, comparable to the Egyptian Ka and the Greek eidolon. It was a kind of guardian angel that took the form of a female entity (fylgjukona) or an animal that protected the family or person it had adopted.

As a form of body language, when the mind is receptive to the sensory experience, writing speaks the truth about all thoughts and feelings. Now I don’t want to be misunderstood here because this isn’t a special talent or skill. It’s present in all of us. The trick is to discover it, cultivate it and translate it from an internal state to an expressive sensuality. It is truly a creative impulse that unconsciously expresses emotions and can also arouse emotion in the person reading the book. The beauty and harmony of the writer never gets old and there are as many new things to learn each day, as there are varieties of adjectives, nouns and verbs in the world. It is the ultimate way to communicate with your reader.

Adjectives are used as nouns (“greats,” “notables”). Nouns are used as verbs (“to host”), or they are chopped off to form verbs (“enthuse,” “emote”), or they are padded to form verbs (“beef up,” “put teeth into”). This is a world where eminent people are “famed” and their associates are “staffers,” where the future is always “upcoming” and someone is forever “firing off” a note. Nobody in America has sent a note or a memo or a telegram in years. Famed diplomat Condoleezza Rice, who hosts foreign notables to beef up the morale of top State Department staffers, sits down and fires off a lot of notes. Notes that are fired off are always fired in anger and from a sitting position. What the weapon is I’ve never found out.

But where are you? Maybe we can find you in your thoughts. René Descartes, a great philosopher, once said, “I think, therefore I am.” But is that really what’s going on? The dictionary defines the verb “to think” as “to form thoughts, to use the mind to consider ideas and make judgments” (Microsoft Encarta 2007). The question is, who is using the mind to form thoughts and then manipulate them into ideas and judgments? Does this experiencer of thoughts exist even when thoughts are not present? Fortunately, you don’t have to think about it. You are very aware of your presence of being, your sense of existence, without the help of thoughts. When you go into deep meditation, for example, the thoughts stop. You know that they’ve stopped.

Excitement is simple: excitement is a situation, a single event. It mustn't be wrapped up in thoughts, similes, metaphors. A simile is a form of reflection, but excitement is of the moment when there is no time to reflect. Action can only be expressed by a subject, a verb and an object, perhaps rhythm -- little else. Even an adjective slows the pace or tranquilizes the nerve.

It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn’t only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take ‘good’, for instance. If you have a word like ‘good’, what need is there for a word like ‘bad’? ‘Ungood’ will do just as well—better, because it’s an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of “good”, what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like ‘excellent’ and ‘splendid’ and all the rest of them? ‘Plusgood’ covers the meaning, or ‘doubleplusgood’ if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already, but in the final version of Newspeak there’ll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words—in reality, only one word. Don’t you see the beauty of that, Winston? It was B.B.’s idea originally, of course,’ he added as an afterthought.

The Greek terms whose meanings the term "progressive" is meant to cover are 'ateles' and 'paratatikos'. 'Ateles' is formed from alpha-privative and 'telos', meaning "end" or "fulfillment". In light of 'ateles' we might have termed this aspect the "unfulfilled" or "incomplete" aspect. 'Paratatikos' is derived from the preposition 'para' ("alongside") and the verb 'teino' ("to stretch") and denotes an action as continuing or extending.

What I finally came to as I walked and prayed for you is the old, old story of getting the gospel clear in your own hearts and minds, making it clear to others, and doing it with only one motive — the glory of Christ. Getting the glory of Christ before your eyes and keeping it there — is the greatest work of the Spirit that I can imagine. And there is no greater peace, especially in the times of treadmill-like activity, than doing it all for the glory of the Lord Jesus. Think much of the Savior's suffering for you on that dreadful cross, think much of your sin that provoked such suffering, and then enter by faith into the love that took away your sin and guilt, and then give your work your best. Give it your heart out of gratitude for a tender, seeking, and patient Savior. Then every event becomes a shiny glory moment to be cherished — whether you drink tea or try to get the verb forms of the new language.

he would have liked us all to leave, so that the hotel could be shut up and he have a few days to himself before ‘rejoining’ in his new place. ‘Rejoin’ and ‘new’ were not, by the way, incompatible terms, since, for the lift-boy,‘rejoin’ was the usual form of the verb ‘to join.’ The only thing that surprised me was that he condescended to say ‘place,’ for he belonged to that modern proletariat which seeks to efface from our language every trace of the rule of domesticity.

Back in the car, squashed between Maya and me, Willa says, “I always picture it like pickled sausages, pressed up against the glass. Her nose and lips and stuff.” “Um,” Jamie says from the passenger seat. “Say more?” “Eleanor Rigby’s face. In a jar by the door.” She sings the line from the Beatles song. “Also, Maya, you might know the answer to this. But when a caterpillar—what’s the verb form of it?—metamorphosizes, what happens to its brain? Like, does every other part of it get melted down to make a butterfly, but its little brain just stays intact the whole time?” “Most of the brain tissue gets broken down and rebuilt,” Maya says. “I mean, it makes sense, right? It has to be a pretty significant neurological rearrangement to get a brain to send fly signals instead of crawl signals.” “Wow” is all Willa says, but I am thinking of these people in the car with me. These no-longer-kids, who have emerged from the cocoon of childhood to fly away into the wild, so brilliant and beautiful. Whose brains have liquefied and rearranged themselves to pilot this flight.

The test case for love of neighbour is love of enemy. Therefore, to the extent we love neighbour and enemy, to that extent we love God. And to the extent we fail to love neighbour and enemy, we fail to love God. “Love” (agapao) is a New Testament action verb that constantly reaches out to embrace as friends, draw a circle of inclusion around, neighbour and enemy (agape is the noun form, almost invariably referencing God’s unconditional love in the New Testament). Therefore, the ultimate theological bottom line is: GOD IS ALL-INCLUSIVE LOVE. PERIOD.

Two verbs cover all the forms which these two causes of death may take—To Will and To have your Will. Between these two limits of human activity the wise have discovered an intermediate formula, to which I owe my good fortune and long life. To Will consumes up, and To have our Will destroys us, but To Know steeps our feeble organisms in perpetual calm. In me Thought has destroyed Will, so that Power is relegated to the ordinary functions of my economy…it is in the brain that cannot waste away and survives everything else, and I have set my life. Moderation has kept mind and body unruffled

Thus Poussin himself, while making no verbal change in the inscription, invites, almost compels, the beholder to mistranslate it by relating the ego to a dead person instead of the tomb, by connecting the et with ego instead of with Arcadia, and by supplying the missing verb in the form of a vixi or fui instead of a sum. The development of his pictorial vision had outgrown the significance of the literary formula, and we may say that those who, under the impact of the Louvre picture, decided to render the phrase Et in Arcadia ego as "I, too, lived in Arcady," rather than as "Even in Arcady, there am I," did violence to Latin grammar but justice to the new meaning of Poussin's composition.

The very terms “split infinitive” and “split verb” are based on a thick-witted analogy to Latin, in which it is impossible to split a verb because it consists of a single word, such as amare, “to love.” But in English, the so-called infinitive to write consists of two words, not one: the subordinator to and the plain form of the verb write, which can also appear without to in constructions such as She helped him pack and You must be brave.23 Similarly, the allegedly unsplittable verb will execute is not a verb at all but two verbs, the auxiliary verb will and the main verb execute. There is not the slightest reason to interdict an adverb from the position before the main verb, and great writers in English have placed it there for centuries.

Disciplinary society is a society of negativity. It is defined by the negativity of prohibition. The negative modal verb that governs it is May Not. By the same token, the negativity of compulsion adheres to Should. Achievement society, more and more, is in the process of discarding negativity. Increasing deregulation is abolishing it. Unlimited Can is the positive modal verb of achievement society. Its plural form—the affirmation, “Yes, we can”—epitomizes achievement society’s positive orientation. Prohibitions, commandments, and the law are replaced by projects, initiatives, and motivation. Disciplinary society is still governed by no. Its negativity produces madmen and criminals. In contrast, achievement society creates depressives and losers.

English has a single verb "to be," which occurs in a variety of contexts. The Guyanese have three verbs for the same set of functions. Or rather two verbs plus what we linguists call a "zero form," a verb that is "not phonologically realized" and looks to the layman like nothing at all: I am hungry = me hongry. The boy is laze = di bai lazy. This is typically what happens when the predicate is an adjective. If it's a noun, you get yet another a: I am captain = me a kyapn. However, if the predicate is an expression indicating location, de must be used: I am in Georgetown = me de a Jarjtong. If there is no predicate (as in Descartes' "I think, therefore I am") then the meaning must be the same as "exist," and again de is used: God is/exists - Gad de.

But first, these past months in my hermitage I’ve figured out a few things concerning matters metaphysical. As I began to explain earlier, loneliness is nothingness. And as already mentioned, the Hebrew word for God, Yahweh, is simply a form of that most fundamental verb, to be. God is what is, understand, but God cannot be without being perceived. God is all that is, and yet God is nothing unless God can look upon God. God is one, but God is not lonely. Loneliness is a contradiction of Creation. Creation must be, but God did not create the universe. God is the universe. God is not the Creator. God is Creation. There is no difference. There was never anything but Creation, and there will never be anything but Creation. Creation requires nothing but itself for its own existence.

It is for this reason that Jung may be right in assuming that energy is a universal concept applicable to psychic functioning as well as the physical universe. Jung then describes how energy has two attributes, intensity and extensity. Extensity of energy is not transferable from one structure to another without changing the structure; intensity of energy is. By extensity, Jung is referring to the quality of the energy. In other words, he is pointing out that there is "something" that travels from one place to another when an energy transformation occurs. For example, a ball that is hit straight up carries with it energy continually undergoing transformation. It has kinetic energy and gravitational potential energy. The quantity of kinetic energy is continually transferring into potential energy as the ball rises. Thus at the top of its trajectory, the ball is momentarily at rest, i.e., with no kinetic energy, but with full potential energy. The evaluation of its quantities of energy is intensive but the qualities of kinetic and potential are extensive. The ball cannot transfer its kinetic quality into potential quality without changing its form by breaking up, for example, into parts. Similarly there is a psychic extensive factor that is not transferable. Jung's concept of extensity and intensity are forerunners of David Bohm's concept of implicate and explicate order, about which I shall have more to say later. They are also forerunners of the conceptual division of the world into objects and actions of objects: subjects and verbs. They comprise a complementarity, a dual way of dealing with experience. They are hints of the division between mind and matter, physical and psychical, words and images.

The tribal ceremonies of birth, initiation, marriage, burial, installation, and so forth, serve to translate the individual's life-crises and life-deeds into classic, impersonal forms. They disclose him to himself, not as this personality or that, but as the warrior, the bride, the widow, the priest, the chieftain; at the same time rehearsing for the rest of the community the old lesson of the archetypal stages. All participate in the ceremonial according to rank and function. The whole society becomes visible to itself as an imperishable living unit. Generations of individuals pass, like anonymous cells from a living body; but the sustaining, timeless form remains. By an enlargement of vision to embrace this superindividual, each discovers himself enhanced, enriched, supported, and magnified. His role, however unimpressive, is seen to be intrinsic to the beautiful festival-image of man—the image, potential yet necessarily inhibited, within himself. Social duties continue the lesson of the festival into normal, everyday existence, and the individual is validated still. Conversely, indifference, revolt—or exile—break the vitalizing connectives. From the standpoint of the social unit, the broken-off individual is simply nothing—waste. Whereas the man or woman who can honestly say that he or she has lived the role—whether that of priest, harlot, queen, or slave—is something in the full sense of the verb to be. Rites of initiation and installation, then, teach the lesson of the essential oneness of the individual and the group; seasonal festivals open a larger horizon. As the individual is an organ of society, so is the tribe or city—so is humanity entire—only a phase of the mighty organism of the cosmos.

Although all new talkers say names, use similar sounds, and prefer nouns more than other parts of speech, the ratio of nouns to verbs and adjectives varies from place to place (Waxman et al., 2013). For example, by 18 months, Englishspeaking infants speak far more nouns than verbs compared to Chinese or Korean infants. Why? One explanation goes back to the language itself. The Chinese and Korean languages are “verb-friendly” in that verbs are placed at the beginning or end of sentences. That facilitates learning. By contrast, English verbs occur anywhere in a sentence, and their forms change in illogical ways (e.g., go, gone, will go, went). This irregularity may make English verbs harder to learn, although the fact that English verbs often have distinctive suffixes (-ing, -ed) and helper words (was, did, had) may make it easier (Waxman et al., 2013).

Nouns (...) are like linguistic iceboxes that freeze a flowing, liquid reality. In using nouns to designate and delimit all the aspects of the world, it is all too easy to confuse a symbol for the reality that it represents. This is the second great philosophical mistake, which the Fravashi refer to as the ‘little maya’. When speaking Moksha, it is difficult to make this mistake, for the function of nouns has largely been replaced by process verbs, as well as by the temporary and flexible juxtaposition of adjectives. For instance, the expression for star might be ‘bright–white–continuing’, while one might think of a supernova as ‘radiant–splendid–dying’. There is no rule specifying the choice or number of these adjectives; indeed, one can form incredibly long and precise (and beautiful) concepts by skilful agglutination, sticking adjectives one after another like beads on a string.

L’homme fut serpent autrefois » signifie que, dans les enseignements ésotériques où le Verbe est conçu comme un « serpent divin », l’homme primordial est nécessairement perçu étant lui-même de nature ophidienne, car, avant la chute, « il n’avait pas d’articulations »; et ce n’est qu’après avoir été « foudroyé par le Nommo » que l’ancêtre détenteur de la norme primordiale se retrouvait « bras et jambes brisés, à hauteur des coudes et des genoux qu’il n’avait pas jusque là. » De la même manière qu’Adam, dans le récit de la Genèse, est désormais obligé de « gagner son pain à la sueur de son front », de même l’homme déchu issu de l’homme-serpent « reçoit les articulations propres à la nouvelle forme humaine qui allait se répandre sur la terre et qui était vouée au travail ». C’est en vue du travail que le bras de l’homme s’est plié, car « les membres souples étaient impropres aux tâches de la forge et des champs. Pour frapper le fer rouge et pour creuser la terre, il fallait le levier de l’avant-bras.

descriptive grammars, that is, they set out to account for the language we use without necessarily making judgements about its correctness. However, the word ‘grammar’, as we have seen, can be used to indicate what rules exist for combining units together and whether these have been followed correctly. For example, the variety of English I speak has a rule that if you use a number greater than one with a noun, the noun has to be plural (I say ‘three cats’, not ‘three cat’). Books which set out this view of language are prescriptive grammars which aim to tell people how they should speak rather than to describe how they do speak. Prescriptive grammars contain the notion of the ‘correct’ use of language. For example, many people were taught that an English verb in the infinitive form (underlined in the example below) should not be separated from its preceding to. So the introduction to the TV series Star Trek …to boldly go where no man has gone before is criticised on the grounds that to and go should not be

It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take 'good,' for instance. If you have a word like 'good,' what need is there for a word like 'bad'? 'Ungood' will do just as well—better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of 'good,' what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like 'excellent' and 'splendid' and all the rest of them? 'Plusgood' covers the meaning, or 'doubleplusgood' if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already, but in the final version of Newspeak there'll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words—in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston?

It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn’t only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take ‘good.’ for instance. If you have a word like ‘good,’ what need is there for a word like ‘bad’? ‘Ungood’ will do just as well—better, because it’s an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of ‘good,’ what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like ‘excellent’ and ‘splendid’ and all the rest of them? ‘Plusgood’ covers the meaning, or ‘doubleplusgood’ if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already, but in the final version of Newspeak there’ll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words—in reality, only one word. Don’t you see the beauty of that, Winston?

Punctuation! We knew it was holy. Every sentence we cherished was sturdy and Biblical in its form, carved somehow by hand-dragged implement or slapped onto sheets by an inky key. For sentences were sculptural, were we the only ones who understood? Sentences were bodies, too, as horny as the flesh-envelopes we wore around the house all day. Erotically enjambed in our loft bed, Clea patrolled my utterances for subject, verb, predicate, as a chef in a five-star kitchen would minister a recipe, insuring that a soufflé or sourdough would rise. A good brave sentence (“I can hardly bear your heel at my nape without roaring”) might jolly Clea to instant climax. We’d rise from the bed giggling, clutching for glasses of cold water that sat in pools of their own sweat on bedside tables. The sentences had liberated our higher orgasms, nothing to sneeze at. Similarly, we were also sure that sentences of the right quality could end this hideous endless war, if only certain standards were adopted at the higher levels. They never would be. All the media trumpeted the Administration’s lousy grammar.

Erroneous plurals of nouns, as vallies or echos. Barbarous compound nouns, as viewpoint or upkeep. Want of correspondence in number between noun and verb where the two are widely separated or the construction involved. Ambiguous use of pronouns. Erroneous case of pronouns, as whom for who, and vice versa, or phrases like “between you and I,” or “Let we who are loyal, act promptly.” Erroneous use of shall and will, and of other auxiliary verbs. Use of intransitive for transitive verbs, as “he was graduated from college,” or vice versa, as “he ingratiated with the tyrant.” Use of nouns for verbs, as “he motored to Boston,” or “he voiced a protest.” Errors in moods and tenses of verbs, as “If I was he, I should do otherwise,” or “He said the earth was round.” The split infinitive, as “to calmly glide.” The erroneous perfect infinitive, as “Last week I expected to have met you.” False verb-forms, as “I pled with him.” Use of like for as, as “I strive to write like Pope wrote.” Misuse of prepositions, as “The gift was bestowed to an unworthy object,” or “The gold was divided between the five men.” The superfluous conjunction, as “I wish for you to do this.” Use of words in wrong senses, as “The book greatly intrigued me,” “Leave me take this,” “He was obsessed with the idea,” or “He is a meticulous writer.” Erroneous use of non-Anglicised foreign forms, as “a strange phenomena,” or “two stratas of clouds.” Use of false or unauthorized words, as burglarize or supremest. Errors of taste, including vulgarisms, pompousness, repetition, vagueness, ambiguousness, colloquialism, bathos, bombast, pleonasm, tautology, harshness, mixed metaphor, and every sort of rhetorical awkwardness. Errors of spelling and punctuation, and confusion of forms such as that which leads many to place an apostrophe in the possessive pronoun its. Of all blunders, there is hardly one which might not be avoided through diligent study of simple textbooks on grammar and rhetoric, intelligent perusal of the best authors, and care and forethought in composition. Almost no excuse exists for their persistent occurrence, since the sources of correction are so numerous and so available.

If literature were nothing more than verbal algebra, anyone could produce any book by essaying variations. The lapidary formula 'Everything flows' abbreviates in two words the philosophy of Heraclitus: Raymond Lully would say that, with the first word given, it would be sufficient to essay the intransitive verbs to discover the second and obtain, thanks to methodical chance, that philosophy and many others. Here it is fitting to reply that the formula obtained by this process of elimination would lack all value and even meaning; for it to have some virtue we must conceive it in terms of Heraclitus, in terms of an experience of Heraclitus, even though 'Heraclitus is nothing more than the presumed subject of that experience. I have said that a book is a dialogue, a form of relationship; in a dialogue, an interlocutor is not the sum or average of what he says: he may not speak and still reveal that he is intelligent, he may emit intelligent observations and reveal his stupidity. The same happens with literature; d'Artagnan executes innumerable feats and Don Quixote is beaten and ridiculed, but one feels the valour of Don Quixote more.

Délires II Alchimie du verbe À moi. L’histoire d’une de mes folies. Depuis longtemps je me vantais de posséder tous les paysages possibles, et trouvais dérisoires les célébrités de la peinture et de la poésie moderne. J’aimais les peintures idiotes, dessus de portes, décors, toiles de saltimbanques, enseignes, enluminures populaires; la littérature démodée, latin d’église, livres érotiques sans orthographe, romans de nos aïeules, contes de fées, petits livres de l’enfance, opéras vieux, refrains niais, rythmes naïfs. Je rêvais croisades, voyages de découvertes dont on n’a pas de relations, républiques sans histoires, guerres de religion étouffées, révolutions de mœurs, déplacements de races et de continents: je croyais à tous les enchantements. J’inventai la couleur des voyelles! — A noir, E blanc, I rouge, O bleu, U vert. — Je réglai la forme et le mouvement de chaque consonne, et, avec des rythmes instinctifs, je me flattai d’inventer un verbe poétique accessible, un jour ou l’autre, à tous les sens. Je réservais la traduction. Ce fut d’abord une étude. J’écrivais des silences, des nuits, je notais l’inexprimable. Je fixais des vertiges.

Heuristics for testing your goals Assess your goals using these guidelines: Does your goal start with a verb (“launch,” “build,” “refactor,” etc.)? Then you probably have an action, so reframe it to describe the outcome you want. Often, this takes the form of translating “X so that Y” into “Y via X” (and consider if you need X in there at all). A helpful trick to figure out the proper framing is to read the goal out, ask yourself why, answer that question, then do that a couple of times until the true goal comes into focus. (See Table 2 for an example.) Do you have “engineering goals” and “business goals,” or something similar? Stop it. Are your goals more than one page, more than three to five objectives, or more than three to five KRs per objective? No one will read them—let alone remember them. When you (or your team) look at your goals, do you wince and think, “What about X? I was really hoping to get to that this quarter”? If not, you probably haven’t focused enough, and your goals are not adding value. Could one team member think a goal is achieved and another one completely disagree? Then your goal isn’t specific enough. (By contrast, if everyone feels it’s mostly successful but the assessments range from 60–80 percent done, who cares?) Can you imagine a scenario where the goal is achieved but you’re still dissatisfied with where you ended up? Then your goal isn’t specific enough, or an aspect is missing. Could you be successful without achieving the goal? Then your goal is overly specific, and you should rethink how to define success.

Is It True? English is a really a form of Plattdeutsch or Lowland German, the way it was spoken during the 5th century. It all happened when Germanic invaders crossed the English Channel and the North Sea from northwest Germany, Denmark and Scandinavia to what is now Scotland or Anglo Saxon better identified as Anglo-Celtic. English was also influenced by the conquering Normans who came from what is now France and whose language was Old Norman, which became Anglo-Norman. Christianity solidified the English language, when the King James Version of the Bible was repetitively transcribed by diligent Catholic monks. Old English was very complex, where nouns had three genders with der, die and das denoting the male, female and neuter genders. Oh yes, it also had strong and weak verbs, little understood and most often ignored by the masses. In Germany these grammatical rules survive to this day, whereas in Britain the rules became simplified and der, die and das became da, later refined to the article the! It is interesting where our words came from, many of which can be traced to their early roots. “History” started out as his story and when a “Brontosaurus Steak” was offered to a cave man, he uttered me eat! Which has now become meat and of course, when our cave man ventured to the beach and asked his friend if he saw any food, the friend replied “me see food,” referring to the multitude of fish or seafood! Most English swear words, which Goodreads will definitely not allow me to write, are also of early Anglo-Saxon origin. Either way they obeyed their king to multiply and had a fling, with the result being that we now have 7.6 Billion people on Earth.

Are you wondering what to write? Let’s start with some general statements that are useful each and every day. Then we’ll create statements that address specific emotional states like depression, anxiety, and feelings of stress. We’ll also create statements that pertain to specific situations such as sleep, relationships, parenting, job, school, health, skills, talents, and leisure activities. GENERAL STATEMENTS Here are some useful statements to write each and every day. Select two or three that resonate with you. You are not limited to these examples. You can write whatever you wish as long as it is a POSITIVE statement in the PRESENT TENSE that begins with ‘I AM’ and uses the PROGRESSIVE ‘ing’ form of the verb. At first, while learning the technique, you might want to use the statements suggested in this book. REMEMBER: Each POSITIVE, PRESENT TENSE, PROGRESSIVE statement is something you would like to be true. But you are writing it as if it already is true. In other words: I am writing positive statements. I am wanting them to be true. I am noticing that they are becoming true. I recommend writing at least two general statements every day. Here are some examples: I am embracing each and every day. I am enjoying today. I am living in the present moment. I am looking forward to today. I am having a productive day. I am staying focused. I am handling things well. I am taking things as they come. I am coping well with problems. I am focusing on the positives. I am moving smoothly through the day. I am confidently coping with challenges. I am noticing how well the day is going. I am feeling fully and deeply alive. Select two or three statements from the above list and write them here.

In the end, ethical interpretation of the Bible means to think critically about how our practices of textual engagement might help us to become both more human and more humane. We are constantly crafting and recrafting ourselves, and the goal is to do so in such a way that we contribute, even if only incrementally, more to the good in the world than to the bad. We think of the point made by Tim Beal (2011, 184), who notes that the etymological root of the word “religion” is typically taken to be the Latin religare, from the verb ligare, meaning “to bind” or “to attach” (ergo our word “ligament”). Religion, in this line of thinking, has to do with being bound to certain doctrines, ideas, or practices. But Beal points out that there is another etymology, suggested by the ancient Roman politician and philosopher Cicero, who proposed that religion derives from the Latin relegere, itself a form of the root legere, “to read” (ergo our words “legible” and even “lectionary”). “Re-ligion” becomes then a process of “re-reading,” and the shaping of a religious life (or more broadly a moral life, or more broadly still just a life) is a continual process of engagement with tradition in the context of present realities. We spoke early on in this book about the “traditioning” process that lies behind the biblical text, the way in which earlier texts and traditions are taken up in later contexts in which they are both preserved and transformed. As a result, Scripture itself presents a rich variety of voices, and sometimes one author or text disagrees with the other. It is an ongoing conversation rather than a set of settled doctrines. And it is our privilege to be invited into that conversation, to become ourselves part of the traditioning process, seeking to bring an unfolding understanding of the good into our present reality.

This Padre Antonio doubted, probably after his training in modern theology or as a practitioner of Catholicism. He argued that those practices were spurious; they did not derive from a true belief in earth-beings. “They do it for money, it’s not real,” he repeated stubbornly. But for Nazario, beliefs are a requirement with Jesus and the Virgin. They are part of faith, or iñi, a Quechua word (and a sixteenth-century neologism).6 Faith, he explained, is not necessary with earth-beings; they require despachos, coca leaves, and words and are present when respectfully invited to participate in runakuna lives—always. They are different, always there and acting with plants, water, animals. Their being does not need to be mediated by faith, but Jesus’s does. And just as Padre Antonio and I talked about Nazario, Nazario and I commented about how our dear Padre thought practices with earth-beings were like religion, like belief or kriyihina—another combination of a Spanish verb (kriyi is the Quechua form of the Spanish creer, to believe) and a Quechua suffix (hina, or like) used to express a condition that Quechua alone cannot convey. Nazario thought earth-beings and Jesus were different, but he was not sure that Antonio was wrong: could they be the same? And finally, neither Nazario nor I were sure that Padre Antonio’s relationship with earth-beings was only like his relationship with Jesus. We speculated that having been in the region for so long, and having been a close friend of Mariano, Padre Antonio must have learned from Mariano’s relations with earth-beings. I still think so; Padre Antonio is a complex religious man, and so are the other Jesuits who live in the region. Some of their Catholic practices may have become partially connected with despachos, and thus less than many and still different. I liked, and still do like, having these priests as friends.

Having studied workplace leadership styles since the 1970s, Kets de Vries confirmed that language is a critical clue when determining if a company has become too cultish for comfort. Red flags should rise when there are too many pep talks, slogans, singsongs, code words, and too much meaningless corporate jargon, he said. Most of us have encountered some dialect of hollow workplace gibberish. Corporate BS generators are easy to find on the web (and fun to play with), churning out phrases like “rapidiously orchestrating market-driven deliverables” and “progressively cloudifying world-class human capital.” At my old fashion magazine job, employees were always throwing around woo-woo metaphors like “synergy” (the state of being on the same page), “move the needle” (make noticeable progress), and “mindshare” (something having to do with a brand’s popularity? I’m still not sure). My old boss especially loved when everyone needlessly transformed nouns into transitive verbs and vice versa—“whiteboard” to “whiteboarding,” “sunset” to “sunsetting,” the verb “ask” to the noun “ask.” People did it even when it was obvious they didn’t know quite what they were saying or why. Naturally, I was always creeped out by this conformism and enjoyed parodying it in my free time. In her memoir Uncanny Valley, tech reporter Anna Wiener christened all forms of corporate vernacular “garbage language.” Garbage language has been around since long before Silicon Valley, though its themes have changed with the times. In the 1980s, it reeked of the stock exchange: “buy-in,” “leverage,” “volatility.” The ’90s brought computer imagery: “bandwidth,” “ping me,” “let’s take this offline.” In the twenty-first century, with start-up culture and the dissolution of work-life separation (the Google ball pits and in-office massage therapists) in combination with movements toward “transparency” and “inclusion,” we got mystical, politically correct, self-empowerment language: “holistic,” “actualize,” “alignment.

For instance, emotional memories are stored in the amygdala, but words are recorded in the temporal lobe. Meanwhile, colors and other visual information are collected in the occipital lobe, and the sense of touch and movement reside in the parietal lobe. So far, scientists have identified more than twenty categories of memories that are stored in different parts of the brain, including fruits and vegetables, plants, animals, body parts, colors, numbers, letters, nouns, verbs, proper names, faces, facial expressions, and various emotions and sounds. Figure 11. This shows the path taken to create memories. Impulses from the senses pass through the brain stem, to the thalamus, out to the various cortices, and then to the prefrontal cortex. They then pass to the hippocampus to form long-term memories. (illustration credit 5.1) A single memory—for instance, a walk in the park—involves information that is broken down and stored in various regions of the brain, but reliving just one aspect of the memory (e.g., the smell of freshly cut grass) can suddenly send the brain racing to pull the fragments together to form a cohesive recollection. The ultimate goal of memory research is, then, to figure out how these scattered fragments are somehow reassembled when we recall an experience. This is called the “binding problem,” and a solution could potentially explain many puzzling aspects of memory. For instance, Dr. Antonio Damasio has analyzed stroke patients who are incapable of identifying a single category, even though they are able to recall everything else. This is because the stroke has affected just one particular area of the brain, where that certain category was stored. The binding problem is further complicated because all our memories and experiences are highly personal. Memories might be customized for the individual, so that the categories of memories for one person may not correlate with the categories of memories for another. Wine tasters, for example, may have many categories for labeling subtle variations in taste, while physicists may have other categories for certain equations. Categories, after all, are by-products of experience, and different people may therefore have different categories. One novel solution to the binding problem uses the fact that there are electromagnetic vibrations oscillating across the entire brain at roughly forty cycles per second, which can be picked up by EEG scans. One fragment of memory might vibrate at a very precise frequency and stimulate another fragment of memory stored in a distant part of the brain. Previously it was thought that memories might be stored physically close to one another, but this new theory says that memories are not linked spatially but rather temporally, by vibrating in unison. If this theory holds up, it means that there are electromagnetic vibrations constantly flowing through the entire brain, linking up different regions and thereby re-creating entire memories. Hence the constant flow of information between the hippocampus, the prefrontal cortex, the thalamus, and the different cortices might not be entirely neural after all. Some of this flow may be in the form of resonance across different brain structures.

The visible present is not in time and space, nor, of course, outside of them: there is nothing before it, after it, about it, that could compete with its visibility. And yet it is not alone, it is not everything. To put it precisely, it stops up my view, that is, time and space extend beyond the visible present, and at the same time they are behind it, in depth, in hiding. The visible can thus fill me and occupy me only because I who see it do not see it from the depths of nothingness, but from the midst of itself; I the seer am also visible. What makes the weight, the thickness, the flesh of each color, of each sound, of each tactile texture, of the present, and of the world is the fact that he who grasps them feels himself emerge from them by a sort of coiling up or redoubling, fundamentally homogeneous with them; he feels that he is the sensible itself coming to itself and that in return the sensible is in his eyes as it were his double or an extension of his own flesh. The space, the time of the things are shreds of himself, of his own spatialization, of his own temporalization, are no longer a multiplicity of individuals synchronically and diachronically distributed, but a relief of the simultaneous and of the successive, a spatial and temporal pulp where the individuals are formed by differentiation. The things—here, there, now, then—are no longer in themselves, in their own place, in their own time; they exist only at the end of those rays of spatiality and of temporality emitted in the secrecy of my flesh. And their solidity is not that of a pure object which the mind soars over; I experience their solidity from within insofar as I am among them and insofar as they communicate through me as a sentient thing. Like the memory screen of the psychoanalysts, the present, the visible counts so much for me and has an absolute prestige for me only by reason of this immense latent content of the past, the future, and the elsewhere, which it announces and which it conceals. There is therefore no need to add to the multiplicity of spatio-temporal atoms a transversal dimension of essences—what there is is a whole architecture, a whole complex of phenomena "in tiers," a whole series of "levels of being," which are differentiated by the coiling up of the visible and the universal over a certain visible wherein it is redoubled and inscribed. Fact and essence can no longer be distinguished, not because, mixed up in our experience, they in their purity would be inaccessible and would subsist as limit-ideas beyond our experience, but because—Being no longer being before me, but surrounding me and in a sense traversing me, and my vision of Being not forming itself from elsewhere, but from the midst of Being—the alleged facts, the spatio-temporal individuals, are from the first mounted on the axes, the pivots, the dimensions, the generality of my body, and the ideas are therefore already encrusted in its joints. There is no emplacement of space and time that would not be a variant of the others, as they are of it; there is no individual that would not be representative of a species or of a family of beings, would not have, would not be a certain style, a certain manner of managing the domain of space and time over which it has competency, of pronouncing, of articulating that domain, of radiating about a wholly virtual center—in short, a certain manner of being, in the active sense, a certain Wesen, in the sense that, says Heidegger, this word has when it is used as a verb. In short, there is no essence, no idea, that does not adhere to a domain of history and of geography. Not that it is confined there and inaccessible for the others, but because, like that of nature, the space or time of culture is not surveyable from above, and because the communication from one constituted culture to another occurs through the wild region wherein they all have originated.

Because uncountable nouns are grammatically singular, they must take singular forms of their verbs.

Helper, to be with you forever” (John 14:16). Some translations use the word “Comforter” instead of “Helper.” The Greek word that is translated as “Helper” or “Comforter” is parakletos; it is the source of the English word paraclete. This word includes a prefix, para-, that means “alongside,” and a root that is a form of the verb kletos, which means “to call.” So, a parakletos was someone who was called to stand alongside another. It usually was applied to an attorney, but not just any attorney. Technically, the parakletos was the family attorney who

Although its meaning is disputed and scholars have offered diverse interpretations, it generally appears in the form of a square of five words arranged in an acrostic: ROTAS OPERA TENET AREPO SATOR. One of the most vexing problems is the translation of the word arepo, which could mean “plough,” according to some scholars. Rotas probably means “wheels,” sator means “sower,” tenet is a verb meaning “holds,” while opera is taken as a form of the adverb operosus, so “carefully.” Put together, the five words arguably construct the sentence, “The sower with his eyes on the plough holds the wheels with care.” Of course, this legend contains nothing specifically Christian or even religiously significant; quite possibly it was a simple word puzzle or game. However, if one rearranges the letters, they can be plotted on the form of a Greek (equal-armed) cross to form the words Pater Noster twice, intersecting at the central N. The remaining four letters, two alphas and two omegas (note the inclusion of Greek letters), are then set into the four corners and thus make a Christian symbol.

[원료약품분량] 이 약 1정(126mg) 중 졸피뎀 타르타르산염 (EP) [성상] 백색 장방형의 필름코팅제 [효능효과] 불면증 [용법용량] 까톡【pak6】텔레:【JRJR331】텔레:【TTZZZ6】라인【TTZZ6】 졸피뎀(Zolpidem) 은 불면증이나 앰비엔(Ambien), 앰비엔 CR(Ambien CR), 인터메조(Intermezzo), 스틸넉스(Stilnox), 스틸넉트(Stilnoct), 서블리넉스(Sublinox), 하이프너젠(Hypnogen), 조네이딘(Zonadin), Sanval, Zolsana and Zolfresh 등은 졸피뎀의 시판되는 품명이다. 1) 이 약은 작용발현이 빠르므로, 취침 바로 직전에 경구투여한다. In addition to "I love you" used to date in Korean, there are old words such as "goeda" [3], "dada" [4], and "alluda" [5]. In Chinese characters, 愛(ae) and 戀(yeon) have the meaning of love. In Chinese characters, 戀 mainly means love in a relationship, and 愛 means more comprehensive love than that. In the case of Jeong, the meaning is more comprehensive than Ae or Yeon, and it is difficult to say the word love. In the case of Japanese, it is divided into two types: 愛 (あい) and 恋 (いこ) [6]. There are two main views on etymology. First of all, there is a hypothesis that the combination of "sal" in "live" or "sard" and the suffix "-ang"/"ung" was changed to "love" from the Middle Ages, but "love" clearly appears as a form of "sudah" in the Middle Ages, so there is a problem that the vowels do not match at all. Although "Sarda" was "Sanda," the vowels match, but the gap between "Bulsa" and "I love you" is significant, and "Sanda" and "Sanda Lang," which were giants, have a difference in tone, so it is difficult to regard it as a very reliable etymology. Next, there is a hypothesis that it originated from "Saryang," which means counting the other person. It is a hypothesis argued by Korean language scholars such as Yang Ju-dong, and at first glance, it can be considered that "Saryang," which means "thinking and counting," has not much to do with "love" in meaning. In addition, some criticize the hypothesis, saying that the Chinese word Saryang itself is an unnatural coined word that means nothing more than "the amount of thinking." However, in addition to the meaning of "Yang," there is a meaning of "hearida," and "Saryang" is also included in the Standard Korean Dictionary and the Korean-Chinese Dictionary as a complex verb meaning "think and count." In addition, as will be described later, Saryang is an expression whose history is long enough to be questioned in the Chinese conversation book "Translation Noguldae" in the early 16th century, so the criticism cannot be considered to be consistent with the facts. In addition, if you look at the medieval Korean literature data, you can find new facts. 2) 성인의 1일 권장량은 10mg이며, 이러한 권장량을 초과하여서는 안된다. 노인 또는 쇠약한 환자들의 경우, 이 약의 효과에 민감할 수 있기 때문에, 권장량을 5mg으로 하며, 1일 10mg을 초과하지 않는다. ^^바로구입가기^^ ↓↓아래 이미지 클릭↓↓ 까톡【pak6】텔레:【JRJR331】텔레:【TTZZZ6】라인【TTZZ6】 3) 간 손상으로 이 약의 대사 및 배설이 감소될 수 있으므로, 노인 환자들에서처럼 특별한 주 의와 함께 용량을 5mg에서 시작하도록 한다. 4) 65세 미만의 성인의 경우, 약물의 순응도가 좋으면서 임상적 반응이 불충분한 경우 용량을 10mg까지 증량할 수 있다. 5) 치료기간은 보통 수 일에서 2주, 최대한 4주까지 다양하며, 용량은 임상적으로 적절한 경우 점진적으로 감량해가도록 한다. 6) 다른 수면제들과 마찬가지로, 장기간 사용은 권장되지 않으며, 1회 치료기간은 4주를 넘지 않도록 한다.

Description: A man walks into a bar. Instruction: Walk into a bar. Exclamation (onomatopoeia): Sigh. Most fiction consists of only description, but good storytelling can mix all three forms. For instance, “A man walks into a bar and orders a margarita. Easy enough. Mix three parts tequila and two parts triple sec with one part lime juice, pour it over ice, and—voilà—that’s a margarita.” Using all three forms of communication creates a natural, conversational style. Description combined with occasional instruction, and punctuated with sound effects or exclamations: It’s how people talk. Instruction addresses the reader, breaking the fourth wall. The verbs are active and punchy. “Walk this way.” Or, “Look for the red house near Ocean Avenue.” And they imply useful, factual information—thus building your authority.

The Sanscrit language, whatever be its antiquity, is of a wonderful structure; more perfect than the Greek, more copious than the Latin, and more exquisitely refined than either, yet bearing to both of them a stronger affinity, both in the roots of verbs and in the forms of grammar, than could possibly have been produced by accident; so strong indeed, that no philologer could examine them all three without believing them to have sprung from some common source.60 Many of the early English Orientalists in India were, like Jones, legal scholars, or else, interestingly enough, they were medical men with strong missionary leanings.

One of my favorite words to research was ‘text’. It comes from the Latin verb ‘texere’ meaning to weave. Think of writing as sewing a quilt. All the pieces with their various colors and textures are being woven together to form a beautiful spread, a fabric of words. In 1870, a prairie woman wrote: “I make them warm to keep my family from freezing. I make them beautiful to keep my heart from breaking.” A poignant and powerful image. So now go weave your words.

But you overuse the passive voice, you‘re distorting the normal order of the sentences. You’re filling it up, often with prepositions or with forms of the verb to be, which is one of the ways that writing gets flabbed out. And you’re dehumanizing the writing because there’s no agent. Right?. So it immediately becomes more abstract, so the reader’s eyes glaze over quickly.

The language follows the third most common word order of languages, the verb-subject-object word order, like Irish and Scottish Gaelic. Hawaiian also employs different forms of the word “we,” distinguishing between the “inclusive we” that includes the person being spoken to and the “exclusive we” that excludes the person being spoken to.

YOU FREQUENTLY VIOLATE THESE RULES and then listed his own ten rules for good writing: Write to express, not to impress. Be proud of what you write. Rewrite always. Limit forms of the verb “to be.” Choose the exact word. Avoid clichés. Use cautiously simile, metaphor, and personification. Set inanimate objects against one another. Vary sentence structure. Create transitions. Proof your clean copy. If

The progressive form of the verb go has been available for centuries in constructions such as I am going home, in which go clearly retains its ordinary verbal sense. This same construction could also be used with a complement of purpose, in cases like I am going to visit Mrs Pumphrey, in which the verb go still had its ordinary meaning: the structure of such a sentence was [I] [am going] [to visit Mrs Pumphrey], broadly parallel to [I] [am going] [home]. Such a sentence could be uttered by a speaker who was actually on her way to Mrs Pumphrey’s house, but equally, and crucially, it could be uttered by someone just about to set out, just like I’m going home. As a consequence, speakers began to reanalyse such utterances as expressing, not actual motion, but rather an intention for the near future. Accordingly, it became possible for something like I am going to buy a new carriage to be said by someone curled up comfortably at home with no immediate intention of moving. This largely happened in the early nineteenth century, but the new usage has extended its domain very rapidly, and today we routinely say things like You’re going to like this book, in which no relevant motion is even conceivable: the be going to construction has entirely lost its original connection with movement and become a mere grammatical marker of the (near) future. Together with this grammaticalization, the structure has been reanalysed: we no longer have the old structure [I] [am going] [to buy a new car]; instead, we have [I] [am] [going to] [buy a new car], in which going to forms part of a single grammatical marker. To see this, observe that this new going to can now be reduced to gonna, as in I’m gonna buy a new car. The same is not possible with the ordinary progressive of the verb go, as in *I’m gonna the beach, in which going and to do not constitute parts of a single grammatical form.

Looked at from the side, all Christian preaching and teaching is made up of nouns, verbs, propositions, questions, and so on. In just the same way, the bread and wine of the Lord’s Supper remain simply bread and wine. If a chemist were to scurry around the table when we are meeting with Christ there, he would find nothing but the regular stuff. And if a grammarian or logician were to break apart and analyze the “stuff” of preaching, he would find assertions and doctrines, nouns and verbs. He would see the form, but not the power. But saving faith, godly trust, does not stare at. Faith looks through. And so, children of God, behold your God.

As for the apostles, Luke tells us, once they had returned from their mission, they told him “all that they had done” (9:10a). One would like to have a record of this—and not least an account of what was said by Judas. Yet the verb Luke uses here is diēgēsanto (“they recounted”), a verbal form of the noun Luke uses to describe the genre in which he himself has written (diēgēsis), further strengthening our sense of his Gospel as a gathering of oral reports from participants or eyewitnesses.

In Gilgamesh, Uta-napishti is “settled”22 there, whereas the word used for the placement of Adam is even more significant, since it is the causative form of the verb “to rest” (nwḥ). In God’s presence, Adam finds rest—an important allusion to what characterizes sacred space. Both Adam and Uta-napishti are placed in sacred space, where they have access to life.

Well, when we’re looking at political processes and we think about classically political left, kind of perspectives that have more to do with the orientation of the collective and the whole and political right that have more to do with the individual and sovereignty. On the right, do we want people who are more self-responsible, who are more sovereign, and who are more empowered? And do we want to give more power to people who are doing a better job? All of that makes perfect sense. Left perspective. Do we want to create situations that actually influence the individuals in the situations to do better – social systems, education, healthcare? Does the environment affect the individual? You can really think of it as: does the environment affect the individual while understanding evolutionary theory that individuals are really formed by their environment? Of course. With humans that are niche creators do the individuals affect their environment? Of course. If you hold either of those as the only perspective, obviously, you’re just missing so much which is that the individual is affecting the whole. The whole, is in turn affecting the individuals, and how do we create systems that have virtuous cycles between empowering individuals and creating better social systems that have the effect of creating humans that are not dependent on the social systems, but that are more sovereign and can in turn create better social systems? And whether we’re thinking about a political issue like that, or we’re looking at a psychological issue like the orientation of being and enjoying reality as is and accepting ourselves and others as is, and doing and becoming which is adding to life, adding to ourselves, seeking to improve ourselves, how do we hold these together? They don’t just have to be held as a paradox or holding one or flip-flopping. There’s a way that when understanding how they related to each other – so in that example - if I understand the nature of a person as a noun that is static then it seems like accepting them the way they are unconditionally, removes the basis for growth. But if I understand that the person is a dynamic process, that they’re actually a verb, that intrinsic to what they are in the moment is desire and impulse to grow and become. And like that, loving someone unconditionally involves wanting for them their own self-actualization and there’s no dichotomy between accepting someone, ourselves, as is, or the world, and seeking to help it grow, advance, and express. So it’s a very simple process of saying the ability to take multiple perspectives, to see the partial truth in them, and then to be able to seam them together into something that isn’t a perspective. It’s a trans-perspective capacity to hold the relationship between many perspectives in a way that can inform our choice-making is fundamental to navigating reality.

Although Pirahã nouns are simple, Pirahã verbs are much more complicated. Each verb can have as many as sixteen suffixes—that is, up to sixteen suffixes in a row. Not all suffixes are always required, however. Since a suffix can be present or absent, this gives us two possibilities for each of the sixteen suffixes—216, or 65,536, possible forms for any Pirahã verb.

Philippians 2:5 tells us that we are to have the mind of Christ. This verse is part of a poem (Phil. 2:5–11) that was originally a hymn.1 This verse says that we are to think like Jesus thinks. In the original Greek, the command is in the form of the verb phroneite, the plural imperative of the verb phroneo, “to think or to be minded in a certain way.” Our mind is to have the same characteristics that Christ's mind has.

When he was twenty-four, André floated down to Saigon and returned with a wife standing upon his prow. Eugenia was the eldest child of Pierre Cazeau, the stately, arrogant owner of the Hôtel Continental, on rue Catinat. She was also deaf. Her tutors had spent the first thirteen years of her life attempting to teach her how to speak like a hearing person, as was dictated by the popular pedagogy of the time. Her tongue was pressed, her cheeks prodded, countless odd intonations were coaxed forth from her lips. Cumbersome hearing horns were thrust into her ears, spiraling upward like ibex horns. It was a torture she finally rejected for the revolutionary freedom of sign, which she taught herself from an eighteenth-century dictionary by Charles-Michel de l’Épée that she had stumbled upon accidentally on the shelf of a Saigon barbershop.1 Based on the grammatical rules of spoken language, L’Épée’s Methodical Sign System was unwieldy and overly complex: many words, instead of having a sign on their own, were composed of a combination of signs. “Satisfy” was formed by joining the signs for “make” and “enough.” “Intelligence” was formed by pairing “read” with “inside.” And “to believe” was made by combining “feel,” “know,” “say,” “not see,” plus another sign to denote its verbiage. Though his intentions may have been noble, L’Epée’s system was inoperable in reality, and so Eugenia modified and shortened the language. In her hands, “belief” was simplified into “feel no see.” Verbs, nouns, and possession were implied by context. 1 “So unlikely as to approach an impossibility,” writes Røed-Larsen of this book’s discovery, in Spesielle ParN33tikler (597). One could not quite call her beautiful, but the enforced oral purgatory of her youth had left her with an understanding of life’s inherent inclination to punish those who least deserve it. Her black humor in the face of great pain perfectly balanced her new husband’s workmanlike nature. She had jumped at the opportunity to abandon the Saigon society that had silently humiliated her, gladly accepting the trials of life on a backwater, albeit thriving, plantation. Her family’s resistance to sending their eldest child into the great unknowable cauldron of the jungle was only halfhearted—they were in fact grateful to be unburdened of the obstacle that had kept them from marrying off their two youngest (and much more desirable) daughters. André painstakingly mastered Eugenia’s language. Together, they communed via a fluttering dance of fingertips to palms, and their dinners on the Fig. 4.2. L’Épée’s Methodical Sign System From de l’Épée, C.-M. (1776), Institution des sourds et muets: par la voie des signes méthodiques, as cited in Tofte-Jebsen, B., Jeg er Raksmey, p. 61 veranda were thus rich, wordless affairs, confluences of gestures beneath the ceiling fan, the silence broken only by the clink of a soup spoon, the rustle of a servant clearing the table, or the occasional shapeless moan that accentuated certain of her sentences, a relic from her years of being forced to speak aloud.

Encourage One Another So encourage each other and build each other up, just as you are already doing. 1 THESSALONIANS 5:11 NLT Encouragement means literally to “put courage in.” When you encourage someone, you are putting courage into his or her heart. Christ calls us to encourage one another. This does not mean just to offer compliments or utter overused phrases in times of trouble such as, “It will all be okay,” or “I hope it all works out.” Biblical encouragement means instilling in someone’s heart the courage needed to face the world. The Greek root word translated “encourage” in the New Testament is paracollatos, the verb form of the noun paraclete. Paraclete means “to lay alongside.” We are called to come alongside those in need and encourage them. Just as the Holy Spirit encourages our hearts, we are to affirm others. Try to focus your encouragement on the person and not anything he or she has done. Build him or her up. Speak words of truth into his or her life. Steer clear of empty compliments or forms of encouragement that rely on actions. Try, “I believe in you. God will be faithful to complete the good work He has begun,” or “I really appreciate who you are.” When you need encouragement, does it sometimes seem that no one is there to offer it? Simply ask the Holy Spirit to draw near to you. He is your Comforter, sent by the Lord to strengthen and guide you. Lord, I want to put courage into others’ hearts. Amen.

1. Who is the author or speaker? 2. Why was this book written? What was the occasion of the book? 3. What historic events surround this book? 4. Where was it written? Who were the original recipients? Context Questions 1. What literary form is being employed in this passage? 2. What is the overall message of this book, and how does this passage fit into that message? 3. What precedes this passage? What follows? Structural Questions 1. Are there any repeated words? Repeated phrases? 2. Does the author make any comparisons? Draw any contrasts? 3. Does the author raise any questions? Provide any answers? 4. Does the author point out any cause and effect relationships? 5. Is there any progression to the passage? In time? Action? Geography? 6. Does the passage have a climax? 7. Does the author use any figures of speech? 8. Is there a pivotal statement or word? 9. What linking words are used? What ideas do they link? 10. What verbs are used to describe action in the passage?

Adjectives were formed by adding the suffix -ful to the noun-verb, and adverbs by adding -wise. Thus, for example, speedful meant “rapid” and speedwise meant “quickly.

Nous pouvons encore préciser la signification du dédoublement du point par polarisation, telle que nous venons de l’exposer, en nous plaçant au point de vue proprement « ontologique » ; et, pour rendre la chose plus aisément compréhensible, nous pouvons envisager tout d’abord l’application du point de vue logique et même simplement grammatical. En effet, nous avons ici trois éléments, les deux points et leur distance, et il est facile de se rendre compte que ces trois éléments correspondent très exactement à ceux d’une proposition : les deux points représentent les deux termes de celle-ci, et leur distance, exprimant la relation qui existe entre eux, joue le rôle de la « copule », c’est-à-dire de l’élément qui relie les deux termes l’un à l’autre. Si nous considérons la proposition sous sa forme la plus habituelle et en même temps la plus générale, celle de la proposition attributive, dans laquelle la « copule » est le verbe « être »[1], nous voyons qu’elle exprime une identité, au moins sous un certain rapport, entre le sujet et l’attribut ; et ceci correspond au fait que les deux points ne sont en réalité que le dédoublement d’un seul et même point, se posant pour ainsi dire en face de lui-même comme nous l’avons expliqué. [1] Toutes les autres formes de propositions qu’envisagent certains logiciens peuvent toujours se ramener à la forme attributive parce que le rapport exprimé par celle-ci a un caractère plus fondamental que tous les autres.

Anglo-Saxon and Franco-Norman came into closer contact, and the linguistic survival techniques on both sides led to the emergence of a supple, adaptable language in which you could invent or half-borrow words and didn’t have to worry so much about whether your sentences had the right verb endings or respected certain strict rules of word order and style (as this sentence proves). The result was the earliest form of what would become English.

We have Exodus 3:14 as a direct proof for the ancient Egyptian triad godhead of YHWH The Cow, "normal" Horus and the rejuvenated Child Horus, aka, the Lion of Judah. In this verse, we read the name of the Child Horus (i.e. Ihy) being equated to YHWH (i.e. Ihy is Yahweh) for that Ihy (i.e. rejuvenated Horus) is one of the seven names of YHWH and 'YHWH' can also be rendered into an archaic third person singular imperfect form of the verb 'Ihy' (i.e. 'HWA') besides being a triconsonantal root of 'HWH'. It is yet astounding to even realize that Ihy was a god who represented the ecstasy of playing the sistrum, and the instrument was associated to Hathor/YHWH with her/his son Ihy in most representational contexts.

Credit” is the third-person singular conjugation of the present tense of the Latin verb credere, “to believe.” It’s the most exceptional and interesting thing in the financial world. Similar leaps of belief underlie every human transaction in life: Your wife might cheat on you, but you hope otherwise. The online store you paid may not ship you your goods, but you trust otherwise. Credit derivatives are just the explicit encapsulations of such beliefs, in financial and contractual form, for corporate entities. Unlike other financial securities, such as shares of IBM stock or oil futures, a credit derivative is not even some theoretical value of a tangible good. It’s the perceived value of a complete intangible, the perception of the probability of meeting some future obligation. People often asked me in the early days of my tech career how I had gone from Wall Street to ads technology. Such a person almost certainly knew nothing about either industry, or the answer would have been obvious. I did the same thing the whole time: putting a price on a human’s perception, be it of a General Motors bond or a pair of shoes coveted on Zappos. It’s the same difference either way; only the scale of the money pile changes.

It is because the verb BE has a plain form which does not share its shape with any of the present tense forms that we need to distinguish the plain form as a distinct inflectional form. And if we do so for BE we should do so for all verbs.

Advancing no particular theory of their own, some insist that explicit teaching of grammar, vocabulary, semantics, pragmatics, and even pronunciation is necessary because students in immersion classrooms sometimes have trouble with these features of the second language. Direct instruction, they say, is the only remedy. Such claims rely heavily on short-term studies in which older students—rarely K–12 English learners—are taught a linguistic form, such as word order, verb conjugation, relative clauses, and so forth, then tested on their conscious knowledge of the form soon after.

Nous irons plus loin : l’existence même de tels êtres, considérés sous l’apparence individuelle, doit être aussi regardée comme symbolique. « Le Verbe s’est fait chair », dit l’Évangile de Jean ; et dire que le Verbe, en se manifestant, s’est fait chair, c’est dire qu’il s’est matérialisé, ou, pour parler d’une façon plus générale et en même temps plus exacte, qu’il s’est en quelque sorte cristallisé dans la forme ; et la cristallisation du Verbe, c’est le Symbole. Ainsi, la manifestation du Verbe, à quelque degré et sous quelque aspect que ce soit, envisagée par rapport à nous, c’est-à-dire au point de vue individuel, est un pur symbole ; les individualités qui représentent le Verbe pour nous, qu’elles soient ou non des personnages historiques, sont toutes symboliques en tant qu’elles manifestent un principe, et c’est le principe seul qui importe. I - LA RELIGION ET LES RELIGIONS

The main thing that distinguishes mealtimes with Jesus, as Conrad Gempf has shown, from the meals of his contemporaries are four verbs.[44] Whether it’s the feeding of the five thousand, the Last Supper, or the Emmaus meal, four things take place: First, Jesus takes something. Second, Jesus blesses what he takes. Third, Jesus breaks what he has blessed. Fourth, Jesus gives away what he has broken, to be a miracle in the lives of others. First, Jesus takes something. It doesn’t matter what it is. No matter how meager or damaged or out-of-touch it is, it comes to life at the touch of God. Second, Jesus blesses what he takes. You never get a blessing for yourself. You get a blessing to bless others. In the words of the black church, “a blessing can’t get to you unless it first can go through you.” We are blessed to bless. Third, Jesus breaks what he has blessed. The word company derives from Latin words cum and pane, meaning “breaking bread together.” Companion means “the one who brings the bread along,” a community of broken people breaking bread together.[45] Every day I make plans to live forever, but bless everyone I meet that day as having one broken thing in common: the life we soon must lose. Fourth, Jesus gives away what is broken. For Jesus it is not enough to be creative and witty and wise in oneself. Are you the cause of creativity and wit and wisdom in others? Just as we are blessed as we bless, we are fed as we feed. At the table we feed others the Bread of Life to be fed the Bread of Life. The more we give, the more we receive. Of course, these four verbs become one in Jesus himself, who is the Bread, blessed, broken, and bestowed. Some of Jesus’ followers thought he came to give bread to them like manna in the desert. The truth was Jesus came to be bread for them—and for us.

Use your dictionary to find the meaning of the new vocabulary words needed for this exercise before you begin. Write the words in your language in the space provided. Complete the following sentences using the correct form of the verb to be.     1. My aunt __________________ nice.     2. The clouds __________________ white.     3. Kathy __________________ sick.     4. The ribbons __________________ yellow.     5. We __________________ twins.     6. The windows __________________ open.

Since the Object of a verb in the active voice becomes the Subject of the passive form, it follows that only Transitive Verbs can be used in the Passive Voice, because an Intransitive Verb has no Object.

The Ekarv method, named after Margareta Ekarv of the Swedish Postal Museum, is a proven set of guidelines, the effectiveness of which has been substantiated by research and has been widely adopted. 1. Use simple language to express complex ideas. 2. Use normal spoken word order. 3. One main idea per line, the end of the line coinciding with the natural end of the phrase. "The robbers were sentenced to death by hanging" is short and to the point. 4. Lines of about 45 letters; text broken into short paragraphs of four or five lines. 5. Use the active form of verbs and state the subject early in the sentence. 6. Avoid: subordinate clauses, complicated constructions, unnecessary adverbs, hyphenating words and the end of lines. 7. Read texts aloud and note natural pauses. 8. Adjust wording and punctuation to reflect the rhythm of speech. 9. Discuss texts with colleagues and consider their comments. 10. Pin draft texts in their final positions to assess affect. 11. Continually reverse and refine the wording. 12. Concentrate the meaning to an "almost poetic level".

According to Liddell & Scott’s Greek lexicon, the verb form “Aphrodisiazo” relates to both the act of sexual intercourse and also the act of “indulging in lust”. This would suggest a relative consistency with her name and her later character from her earliest appearances in the Greek language. Her

Ce sujet que je traite est tout plein de mysticité ; car lorsque le Créateur tout-puissant de la nature commença à donner sa loi, et qu'il voulut manifester sa puissance à Moïse, il lui apparut en forme de lumière dans un buisson ardent, qui brûlait sans se consumer. De même lorsque le Verbe eut établit sa loi et cessé de converser avec les hommes, il remonta au ciel, d'où il était descendu, avec une mystique couronne d'épines sur la tête, unissant ainsi les deux époques de la promulgation de sa loi, afin de prouver que c'est un seul et même Dieu, le père et le fils, principe et fin du siècle, qui les a données.

It is not always obvious that metaphor has played this al limportant function. But this is because the concrete metaphiers become hidden in phonemic change, leaving the words to exist on their own. E v en such an unmetaphorical-sounding word as the verb 'to be' was generated from a metaphor. It comes f rom the Sanskrit bhu, “to grow, or make grow,” while the English forms ‘am’ and ‘is’ have e vol v ed from the same root as the Sanskrit asmiy “to breathe

The afternoon began with Greek. It was the Rector who taught them (…). He had the most beautiful Greek handwriting you could imagine; he drew the letters ceremonially, and the loops especially – as in Omega or Theta, or when pulled the Eta down – were the purest calligraphy. He loved Greek. But he loved it in the wrong way; thought Gregorius at the back of the classroom. His way of loving it was a conceited way. It wasn’t by celebrating the words. If it had been that –Gregorius would have liked it. But when this man wrote out the most difficult verb forms, he celebrated not the words, but rather himself as one who knew them. The words thus became ornaments to him, he adorned himself with them, they turned into something like the polka dotted bow tie he wore year in, year out

According to Bauer, the oldest form of the Semitic verb is the imperfect, which does not indicate 'subjective' or 'objective' time but rather 'every possible moment', since it is completely atemporal.

To conjugate (or modify the form of the verb) you follow two simple steps: 1) remove the –en from the verb and 2) replace it with the appropriate ending.

The next morning, I worked out at Murakami’s dojo in Asakusa. When I arrived, the men who were already training paused and gave me a low collective bow—a sign of their respect for the way I had dispatched Adonis. After that, I was treated in a dozen subtle ways with deference that bordered on awe. Even Washio, older than I and with a much longer and deeper association with the dojo, was using different verb forms to indicate that he now considered me his superior.

Past subjunctive forms are used when reporting: May/might as well can be translated using the verb poder. When the speaker expresses advice in a mild way (that is, the advice is not emphasized or insisted on), por las mismas can be added (usually preceding the verb poder):

Ectoplasm is shapeless, it is “informe,” a kind of primordial paste—and to show itself as this, it annexes semiotic markers that designate intermediate spirit worlds. When looking at these fluid, inchoate forms, sometimes imprinted with a face, it is worth recalling that the word larva, used in English for the early stage of a caterpillar, meant “ghost” or “specter” in Latin, but is also used by Horace to designate a mask, such as might frighten an observer, while the verb larvo meant “to bewitch” or “enchant.” Ectoplasmic masks are indeed larval: they promise the emergence of forms, but don’t deliver them. The term pseudopod catches this relationship with the embryonic—and indeed with abortion.

The potential difficulty posed by Jeremiah 18:7–10 arises, I suggest, for two reasons. On the one hand, the text is making a point about divine responsiveness in a way that, characteristic of Hebrew idiom, is generalizing—and a generalization may permit exceptions and qualifications. It is only if the generalization is read as a universal claim that a problem arises. On the other hand, the Hebrew language is notoriously short of modal forms in its verbs: may, might, should, would, and so forth. One always has to infer the correct nuance from the context (and the context may not always enable one to be precise).35 It would not be strained to render the verb depicting God’s response in 18:8, 10 as “I may relent/retract.

such a translation may beg the interpretive question. Deuteronomy has two other verbs to express a straightforward sense of “destroy.”57 Moreover, the conceptuality of ḥērem is on any reckoning more complex than “destroy,” even if in certain contexts destruction might be entailed. It appears that the prime sense is a matter of making something the exclusive possession of YHWH and thereby removing it from the sphere of regular human use. Even though this could entail destruction, it is important to realize that “‘destruction’ is a secondary implication of ḥērem and not its primary meaning.”58 There is thus a case for translating the verbal form with “put under the ban,” or simply “ban,” not least because such a translation has the merit of being somewhat opaque and thus prevents the contemporary reader from too readily assuming that the meaning of the word is understood.

faith-ing – rhymes with bathing – is the verb form of faith! EL

« Enfler » doit être le verbe correct. Je prends de plus en plus de volume, comme si un big bang intérieur avait eu lieu lors de mon arrivée en Irak.

Primary Science confused her (if man descended form monkeys, how com the monkey that loved with Mama Boy near the church, and has lived with her for so long as anyone remembered, has not evolved and become human?) and grammar baffled her even more (she could never grasp why it was 'Run Run Ran' but 'See Saw Seen'). When she was caned by her teacher for failing to conjugate the verb Fear (she had said 'Fear Fore Forn'), she decided that school was not for her. There was no logic in what she read, all the teaching seemed designed both to compound her problems and to confound her. When she asked questions, her teachers told her off for being disruptive. How could it be 'Tear Tore Torn'? Change the first letter and the rules changed completely! How was she supposed to remember all of that? 'See Saw Sawn'. It was an unrealistic demand. And on top of that there was the illogicality of mathematics to deal with. Finding solutions to abstract questions that had nothing to do with real life. She did not see how any of this would help her, how it would help anybody really.

da is used with the infinitive (the –re form of the verb) when you’re talking about things to do. C’è molto da fare. There’s lots to do. È un film da vedere. It’s a film that you’ve got to see. Non c’è niente da mangiare.

Verbal transposition often takes the form of inverted word order, unusual noun-verb or adjective-noun collocations, epizeuxis (a common characteristic of West African languages; see e.g. Zabus 2007:140) or literally translated idiomatic expressions such as in the following example:

Esme discovers the earrings and dons them, but Wyatt has already spurned her by that point. Not until the last page on which he appears does he realize the importance of the earrings; by intending to pass them along to his daughter, he demonstrates his recognition of the emotions and especially the strongest, most liberating emotion of all, love.46 Not the sentimental love of romantics, nor the lust of sensualists: the kind of love Wyatt embraces is less eros than agapē—charity, attentiveness, caring. “—Charity’s the challenge” Wyatt had admitted earlier (383), but not until the end of the novel is he psychologically prepared to commit himself to this challenge. It is crucial to note that the Augustinian motto Wyatt chooses reads “Dilige et quod vis fac” (“Love, and do what you want to” [899]), not the more popular form “Amo et fac quod vis”—that is, Wyatt prefers the verb meaning “to esteem and care for” over that meaning “to love passionately.”47 This is the kind of love recommended in Eliot’s Four Quartets; for Wyatt it represents a new beginning, not an end, for as Eliot argues, this form of love never ceases to be a challenge.

pass for Buncombe’ both became popular catchphrases in the 1830s. Eventually, the word itself came to be used as a general term for nonsense or waffling talk in the 1860s, with the abbreviated form bunk developing around 1900, and the verb debunk first recorded in 1923.

In a study of 106 undergraduate and graduate nonnative English—speaking students, Schmitt and Zimmerman (2002) found that it was rare for a student to know all four forms or no form of a word. In other words, partial knowledge of at least one form was the norm. Results also showed that learners tended to have a better understanding of the noun and/or verb forms rather than the adjective and/or adverb forms. The authors conclude that teachers cannot assume that learners will absorb the derivative forms of a word family automatically from exposure and suggest explicit instruction in this area of vocabulary.

Marie est la « servante du Seigneur », la servante par excellence, ce qui indique une similitude annonciatrice de la fonction du Prophète de l’islâm. Ce caractère servitorial est lié au symbolisme du voile. Selon Michel Vâlsan : « La Réalité muhammadienne constitue le mystère du Verbe suprême et universel, car elle est en même temps la Théophanie intégrale (de l’Essence, des Attributs et des Actes) et son occultation sous le voile de la Servitude absolue et totale ». C’est parce qu’elle est la servante parfaite que Marie est toujours voilée, aussi bien dans ses apparitions que dans les représentations de l’Art sacré, notamment celui des icônes. Comme elle est, par ailleurs, le modèle de toutes les vertus, l’Eglise aurait été bien inspirée de reconnaître que l’attachement islamique au port du voile pouvait constituer un exemple pour les femmes catholiques. Les querelles et les résistances modernes sur ce point sont révélatrices d’un état d’esprit antitraditionnel. Ibn Arabî enseigne que le statut subordonné de la femme exprime, non pas un abaissement, mais au contraire sa supériorité spirituelle sur l’homme qui, créé directement à l’image de Dieu, a tendance à oublier sa servitude et à se poser en rival de son Créateur . Toute forme traditionnelle est fondée sur une alliance impliquant une soumission à la volonté divine ; c’est ce qu’indique parfaitement le terme « islam » qui apparaît, par là même, comme une désignation de la Tradition universelle. Au lieu de reconnaître cette signification traditionnelle du voile de Marie, l’Église, sur cette question comme sur beaucoup d’autres, donne l’impression de suivre l’air du temps et, sans doute pour mieux se démarquer de l’islâm, d’encourager les femmes catholiques, en particulier les souveraines, à se montrer tête nue ailleurs qu’au Vatican. L’enseignement de saint Paul est cependant fort clair, et semblable à celui de l’islam : « Femmes, soyez soumises à vos maris, comme il se doit dans le Seigneur » (Col, 3, 18) ; « Je ne permets pas à la femme d’enseigner ni de faire la loi à l’homme. Qu’elle se tienne tranquille. C’est Adam en effet qui fut formé le premier, Eve ensuite. Et ce n’est pas Adam qui se laissa séduire » (I Tim, 2, 12-13).

It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn’t only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take “good”, for instance. If you have a word like “good”, what need is there for a word like “bad”? “Ungood” will do just as well—better, because it’s an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of “good”, what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like “excellent” and “splendid” and all the rest of them? “Plusgood” covers the meaning; or “doubleplusgood” if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already, but in the final version of Newspeak there’ll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words—in reality, only one word. Don’t you see the beauty of that, Winston? It

Around has two main meanings. The most common meaning is vaguely moving from one direction to another. What do many people do on holiday? They walk around the town where they are staying. About and round mean the same, and several verbs have all three forms which mean the same.. The second meaning of around and about is approximate. How much is it? About ten euros. It is around ten euros.

holophrasm, a word that can serve as a complete sentence. (Holophrasms aren’t common in English, but any verb in command form can be holophrastic—“Go,” “Help,” “Run”—and

The other New Testament word for anger I want you to notice is orge. This is “a more settled and long lasting attitude often continuing toward the goal of seeking revenge.” The verb form of this word, with an added Greek prefix, means to be provoked to irritation, exasperation, or embitterment.3 The verb can be used in a positive sense, as in Ephesians 4:26. The noun form orge appears in Ephesians 4:31, where it is translated as anger, in Colossians 3:6, and in James 1:20 among many other places.

Therefore, in reality what the English word 'Consciousness' refers to is a subcategory of quantitative (rather than what modern dictionaries claim it to be: qualitative) awareness. And if the English language were technically viable (as German claims to be, despite the fact that it is only so in a relative context), we would have witnessed -after removing the 'con'- the existence of a derivative of the word 'scire' to signal the verb 'to know' in modern dictionaries; but that is not the case. The conclusion that we now can draw, is that the English language intentionally inherited the word 'conscire' to signal to its speakers the real existence of the 'mutual knowing' paradigm in the universe, but it has left its own nation prone to ceaseless interpretation schemes rather than being established in linguistical rigidity on this specific topic. This explains the presence of the word/expression of 'self-consciousness' in the dictionary; it is certainly an oxymoron which has been relatively overcome by intending it to refer to a converging scheme of awareness. However it becomes incoherent with the word 'self-conscious' despite the fact that all what we took away was the suffix which is supposed to only signal a state or a condition rather than a vectorial form.

L’homme est le seul être, dans le monde terrestre, à pouvoir se purifier consciemment des taches de son existence, et c’est pour cela qu’il est dit que « l’homme est le seul animal qui sacrifie » (Shatapatha-Brâhmana, VII, 5) ; en d’autres termes, la vie étant un don du Créateur, les êtres conscients et responsables doivent, afin de réaliser spirituellement le sens de ce don en se référant à sa qualité symbolique, et afin de rendre ce don, par là même, plus prospère et plus durable, sacrifier au Créateur une partie de ce qu’il a donné. Ce sacrifice peut avoir des formes soit sanglantes, soit non sanglantes : ainsi, pour ne citer que ces exemples parmi une multitude d’autres, les Hindous, comme beaucoup de peuples, ne mangent qu’après avoir offert une part aux divinités, de sorte qu’ils ne se nourrissent au fond que de restes sacrificiels ; de même encore, les Musulmans et les Juifs versent tout le sang de la viande destinée à la consommation. Dans un sens analogue, les guerriers de certaines tribus de l’Amérique du Nord sacrifiaient, au moment de leur initiation guerrière, un doigt au « Grand- Esprit » ; il est à retenir que les doigts sont sous un certain rapport ce qu’il y a de plus précieux pour le guerrier, homme d’action, et d’autre part, le fait que l’on possède dix doigts et que l’on en sacrifie un, c’est-à-dire un dixième de ce qui représente notre activité, est fort significatif, d’abord parce que le nombre dix est celui du cycle accompli ou entièrement réalisé, et ensuite à cause de l’analogie qui existe entre le sacrifice dont nous venons de parler et la dîme (décima, dixième). Celle-ci est du reste l’équivalent exact de la zakkât musulmane, l’aumône ordonnée par la Loi qoranique : afin de conserver et d’augmenter les biens, on empêche le cycle de prospérité de se fermer et cela en sacrifiant le dixième, c’est-à-dire la partie qui constituerait précisément l’achèvement et la fin du cycle. Le mot zakkât a le double sens de « purification » et de « croissance », termes dont le rapport étroit apparaît très nettement dans l’exemple de la taille des plantes ; ce mot zakkât vient étymologiquement du verbe zakâ qui veut dire « prospérer » ou « purifier », ou encore, dans une autre acception, « lever » ou « payer » la contribution sacrée, ou encore « augmenter ». Rappelons aussi, dans cet ordre d’idées, l’expression arabe dîn, qui signifie non seulement « tradition », selon l’acception la plus courante, mais aussi « jugement », et, avec une voyellisation un peu différente qui fait que le mot se prononce alors dayn, « dette » ; ici encore, les sens respectifs du mot se tiennent, la tradition étant considérée comme la dette de l’homme vis-à-vis de Dieu ; et le « Jour du Jugement » (Yawm ed-Dîn) — « Jour » dont Allâh est appelé le « Roi » (Mâlik) — n’est autre que le jour du « paiement de la dette » de l’individu envers Celui à qui il doit tout et qui est son ultime raison suffisante.

The word reformation comes from the Latin verb reformo, which means “to form again, mold anew, or revive.” The Reformers did not see themselves as inventers, discoverers, or creators. Instead they saw their efforts as rediscovery. They

Before 1800 the word “light,” apart from its use as a verb and an adjective, referred just to visible light. But early that year the English astronomer William Herschel observed some warming that could only have been caused by a form of light invisible to the human eye. Already an accomplished observer, Herschel had discovered the planet Uranus in 1781 and was now exploring the relation between sunlight, color, and heat. He began by placing a prism in the path of a sunbeam. Nothing new there. Sir Isaac Newton had done that back in the 1600s, leading him to name the familiar seven colors of the visible spectrum: red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. (Yes, the colors do indeed spell Roy G. Biv.) But Herschel was inquisitive enough to wonder what the temperature of each color might be. So he placed thermometers in various regions of the rainbow and showed, as he suspected, that different colors registered different temperatures.† Well-conducted experiments require a “control”—a measurement where you expect no effect at all, and which serves as a kind of idiot-check on what you are measuring. For example, if you wonder what effect beer has on a tulip plant, then also nurture a second tulip plant, identical to the first, but give it water instead. If both plants die—if you killed them both—then you can’t blame the alcohol. That’s the value of a control sample. Herschel knew this, and laid a thermometer outside of the spectrum, adjacent to the red, expecting to read no more than room temperature throughout the experiment. But that’s not what happened. The temperature of his control thermometer rose even higher than in the red. Herschel wrote: [I] conclude, that the full red falls still short of the maximum of heat; which perhaps lies even a little beyond visible refraction. In this case, radiant heat will at least partly, if not chiefly, consist, if I may be permitted the expression, of invisible light; that is to say, of rays coming from the sun, that have such a momentum as to be unfit for vision.

As Simone Weil wrote in Gravity and Grace, “Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.” We see this in the very etymology of the word attention, which comes from the Latin verb attendere, meaning “to stretch toward” something. So to give someone or something our full attention is to extend ourselves, our resources, our energy, our generosity. The gift of attention can be extended to other parts of our lives. It can be given societally, to pressing problems such as income inequality, the climate crisis, and systemic racial injustice. Directing our attention to such issues is signaling what

Driveway was formed with the verb to drive in the late 1800s. This was before the automobile, and drive was something you did with a carriage or team of animals. A driveway might also be called a carriageway, horseway, or cartway. At the time, no one would have thought of its primary purpose as a place to park anything. Its purpose was to provide room for vehicles to move, not stand still. That’s what a barn or carriage house was for. It wasn’t until later, with the development of private home driveways leading from the street to a house or garage and the spread of automobiles, that it became standard to park in a driveway.

The graven of graven images doesn’t even have a corresponding verb anymore. It was originally from the Germanic root that became graben in German and grafan in Old English and meant dig or engrave. In the sixteenth century, English, under the influence of French, which had itself borrowed the Germanic root and formed engraver out of it, started using engrave as the verb and jettisoned the original—except in the case of graven images, where the old past participle lives on as an adjective in one, very specific, biblical context.

But the pull of the first-syllable pattern is strong. And plenty of verbs waver between second- and first-syllable stress. What about research? (“Did you REsearch the question? Did you resEARCH the question?”) Transform? (“Did it TRANSform your understanding? Did it transFORM your understanding?”) And there are plenty of paired nouns that seem to be in the midst of this wavering too (my REsearch/resEARCH, my ADdress, my adDRESS). Even some of the late borrowings that are clearly French (homage, mustache, perfume) can go either way. In many later borrowings, the British and American stress preferences differ.

The noun failure came much later, in the seventeenth century. It was formed in English from the verb faillir, but the end syllable was confused with a different suffix, -ure in words like figure, pressure, and closure. Due to this confusion, faillir became failure. But before that the gerund form failing was used as the noun, in failing of teeth, failing of eyes, failing of the spirit, and also without (any) failing. For a while, there was also another noun form, faille, taken directly from French. Sans faille meant without fault, lack, or flaw, and it worked its way into medieval English along with other common set phrases like sans doute, sans délai, crier merci, en bref, au large, par cœur. We made the words more English but kept the basic structure: without a doubt, without delay, cry mercy, in brief, at large, by heart.

All of our natural intuitions tell us that Jesus is with us, on our side, present and helping, when life is going well. This text says the opposite. It is in "our weaknesses" that Jesus sympathizes with us. The word for "sympathize" here is a compound word formed from the prefix meaning "with" joined with the verb to suffer. "Sympathize" here is not cool and detached pity. It is a depth of felt solidarity such as is echoed in our own lives most closely only as parents to children. Indeed, it is deeper even than that. In our pain, Jesus is pained; in our suffering, he feels the suffering as his own even though it isn't--not that his invincible divinity is threatened, but in the sense that his heart is feelingly drawn into our distress. His human nature engages our troubles comprehensively. His is a love that cannot be held back when he sees his people in pain.

sn A quotation from Isa 7:14. It is unclear whether the author is citing the MT or the LXX. The use of the word παρθένος (parthenos, “virgin”) may be due to its occurrence in the LXX, but it is also possible that it is the author’s translation of the Hebrew term עַלְמָה (’almah, “young woman”). The second phrase of the quotation is modified slightly from its original context; both the MT and LXX have a second person singular verb, but here the quotation has a third person plural verb form. The spelling of the name here (Emmanuel) differs from the spelling of the name in the OT (Immanuel) because of a different leading vowel in the respective Greek and Hebrew words. In the original context, this passage pointed to a child who would be born during the time of Ahaz as proof that the military alliance of Syria and Israel against Judah would fail. Within Isaiah’s subsequent prophecies this promise was ultimately applied to the future Davidic king who would one day rule over the nation.

If we can't overcome the kind of despair that you're talking about, but remember now what Goethe said, that 'he or she who has never despaired has never lived', nothing wrong with wrestling with despair. The question is not allowing it to have the last word." Anderson Cooper, "What gives you hope?", "We do have a cloud of witnesses of all colors, all social orientations, all national identities against forms of evil. Hope is a verb as much as a virtue. We have to stay in motion and always know that we've got some memories of love and justice. We've got some joy tied to our witness that the world can never take away and if we have a collective effort than we can hold up this blood-stained banner just a little longer.

Taxonomically the bora and mistral are katabatic (downhill) winds, found anywhere that cold mountain air can make a steep escape to ground. Wind names in the Mediterranean derive largely from geography. Llevantade has roots in the Spanish verb llevar (to rise) and is one in a family of winds that originate from the east. Poniente means west in Spanish and denotes fair breezes that blow in off the Atlantic, funneling through the Strait of Gibraltar. The sirocco is drawn up from Africa, a gritty inhalation that grows wet and foggy on a diet of evaporated water as it makes its way north. Microparticles of airborne sand form nuclei for condensation, bringing tiny bits of the Sahara down with the rain onto Europe. The sirocco is called the arifi (thirsty) in Libya, and the jugo (south) in Croatia. I posit that we are experiencing the Mediterranean’s unnamed breeze, the nonwind. “Ah, yes,” she replies. “El sin viento.

triple duty—nouns, verbs, and adverbs in asl DID YOU KNOW? The number or quality of repeated movements within a sign can mean the difference between a noun, verb, or adverb, or provide multiple kinds of information simultaneously. This grammatical feature means ASL is often more economical than spoken language. NOUN: Repeat the sign’s movement twice using a small range of motion. For example, the pointer and middle fingers are tapped against each other to make the sign “chair.” VERB: The sign’s movement is made only once, using a larger range of motion. Sometimes this movement is altered to more closely mirror the real-life action (see: “cup” → “drink”). Here the pointer and middle fingers of one hand are set on the other to make the verb “to sit.” Greater force and a stern facial expression can form the command “sit down.” ADVERB: Some signs can be imbued with descriptive information by tweaking or adding movement. For example, to add the information for a long period of time, a sign can be adjusted to incorporate a slow, circular motion (see: working, sitting). NOW YOU TRY! Using the base sign study, tell a partner about a time when you had to study hard or for a long time.

Some nouns: glass, scissors, razors, acid. Some verbs: cut, scrape, cauterize, burn. These nouns and verbs create unspeakable sentences when the object is a seven year old girl with her legs forced open. The clitoris, with it's 8000 nerve endings, is always sliced up. In the most extreme forms of female genital mutilation (FGM), the labia are cut off and the vagina is sewn shut. On her wedding night, the girl's husband will penetrate her with a knife before his penis.

Difficulties of technical translation: features, problems, rules Technical translation is one of the most important areas of written translation in modern translation practice. Like the interpretation technique, it has its own characteristics and requirements. The need for this type of work is due to economic and scientific and technical progress, as well as the development of international relations. Thanks to technical translation, people share experience, knowledge and developments in various fields. What are the features of this type of translation? What pitfalls can be encountered on the translator's path? You will learn about this and much more from our article. ________________________________________ Technical translation is one of the most difficult types of legal translation. This is due to the large number of requirements for such work. Technical translation includes all scientific and technical texts, documents, instructions, reports, reference books and dictionaries. The texts of this plan contain a lot of specific terminology, which is the main difficulty of technical translation. A term is a word or a combination of words that accurately names a phenomenon, subject or scientific concept, revealing its meaning as much as possible. The most common technical texts in the following areas: • engineering; • defense; • physics and mathematics; • aircraft construction; • oil industry; • shipbuilding, etc. The main feature of technical translation is the requirement for its high accuracy (equivalence). The task of the translator is to convey information as close as possible to the original. Otherwise, distortions may appear in the text, leading to a misunderstanding of important information. Vocabulary selection is carried out carefully and carefully. The construction of phrases should be logical and meaningful. Other technical translation requirements include adequacy and informativeness. It is equally important to maintain the style of such texts. This includes not only vocabulary, but also the grammatical structure of the text, as well as the way the material is presented. Most often, this is a formal and logical style. Unlike artistic translation, where the main task is to convey the content, and the translator can use his imagination, include fancy turns and various figures of speech, the presence of emotionality and subjectivity is unacceptable in technical translation. Let's consider the peculiarities of technical translation in English. According to the well-known linguist and translator Y. Y. Retsker, English technical literature is characterized by the predominant use of complex or complex sentences, which include adjectives, nouns, as well as impersonal forms of verbs (infinitives, gerundial inflections, etc.). Passive constructions are also often found. In this direction, it is permissible to use only generally accepted grammatical structures. Another feature of such texts may be the absence of a predicate or subject and a large number of enumerations. In addition, the finished text should have an appropriate layout equivalent to the original. Let's consider the basic rules of technical translation for a specialist: • knowledge of the vocabulary, grammar and word structure of the foreign language from which the translation is performed (at the level required for understanding the source text); • knowledge of the language into which the translation is performed (at a level sufficient for a competent presentation of the material); • excellent knowledge of the specifics of texts and terminology; • ability to use linguistic and technical sources of information; • familiarity with the specifics of the field

In English, for example, the sequence of segments in the noun increase and its corresponding verb increase is the same, but the two forms sound different because a different syllable (underlined here) is stressed in each case.

These days even wanting is mediated by models of the will, by forms of making people want something - by persuasion or dissuasion. Even if such categories as wishing, being able, believing, knowing, acting, desiring and enjoying still retain some meaning, they have all been monopolized, as it were, by a simple auxiliary mode. Everywhere the active verb has given way to the factitive, and actions themselves have less importance than the fact that they are produced, induced, solicited, media-ized or technicized. There is to be no knowledge save that which results from having (people) know. No speaking save that which results from having (people) speak - i.e. from an act of communication. No more actions save those which result from an interaction - complete, if possible, with television monitor and built-in feedback. For the thing that characterizes operation, as opposed to action, is precisely that operations are necessarily regulated in the way in which they occur - otherwise, there would be no communication. Speaking - but no communication. Communication is operational or it is nothing. Information is operational or it is nothing.

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.

the f-word. Turned out he was an expert in its use as a verb, noun, adjective, adverb, article, and several forms of punctuation. I

Mandarin or Vietnamese, have little or no inflectional morphology: the concept of ‘plural’ in Mandarin for example has to be deduced from context (one dog, two dog, many dog and so on) and is not marked on the noun itself. Russian or Latin, by contrast, are examples of highly inflecting languages: both Latin and its daughter language, Portuguese, for example, have full verbal paradigms in which all persons in all tenses are marked by a suffix (compare English, which marks only third person singular in the present tense). In both Latin and Russian, nouns are additionally marked for case, indicating by means of a suffix their function within a sentence. English, which has lost most of its case marking except in pronouns (compare she as a subject or nominative form, and her as an accusative or object form), achieves this through word order (subjects tend to precede verbs, objects follow them), or by prepositions. In Russian, these endings vary according to the gender of the noun, and there is a separate plural form.

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).

The Gospels indicate that the test case for love of God is love of neighbour. The test case for love of neighbour is love of enemy. Therefore, to the extent we love neighbour and enemy, to that extent we love God. And to the extent we fail to love neighbour and enemy, we fail to love God. “Love” (agapao) is a New Testament action verb that constantly reaches out to embrace as friends, draw a circle of inclusion around, neighbour and enemy (agape is the noun form, almost invariably referencing God’s unconditional love in the New Testament). Therefore, the ultimate theological bottom line is: GOD IS ALL-INCLUSIVE LOVE. PERIOD.

The Gospels indicate that the test case for love of God is love of neighbour. The test case for love of neighbour is love of enemy. Therefore, to the extent we love neighbour and enemy, to that extent we love God. And to the extent we fail to love neighbour and enemy, we fail to love God. “Love” (agapao) is a New Testament action verb that constantly reaches out to embrace as friends, draw a circle of inclusion around, neighbour and enemy (agape is the noun form, almost invariably referencing God’s unconditional love in the New Testament). Therefore, the ultimate theological bottom line is: GOD IS ALL-INCLUSIVE LOVE. PERIOD.

What, then, were the original vowels in God’s name? Ultimately, we do not know. During the period of the divided kingdom, the name may have been pronounced something like “Yau,” with the “au” forming a diphthong rather than two separate syllables. Evidence from classical Hebrew (found in both Biblical and non-Biblical texts) and certain Greek renderings of the name, however, have led scholars generally to believe that “Yahweh” was the way in which the name eventually came to be pronounced. More significant is the meaning of the name Yahweh. For this there has been a wide range of suggestions: “Truly He!”; “My One”; “He Who Is”; “He Who Brings into Being”; “He Who Storms.” One of the best suggestions is that the name is a shortened form of a longer name, Yahweh Sabaoth (often rendered in English as “the LORD of Hosts” or “the LORD Almighty”; see, e.g., 2Sa 6:2). The word “Yahweh” itself is most likely a verb. Many other shortened names from the ancient Near East are verb forms, which is exactly what Yahweh appears to be. It comes from the Hebrew verb meaning “to be.” But if the first vowel really is an a-vowel, then the verb likely has a causative sense: “to cause to be.” Thus, a fairly literal translation of Yahweh Sabaoth would be “He Who Causes the Hosts (of Heaven) to Be.” In general, then, the name refers to the One who creates or brings into being. ◆ The Tetragrammaton in one of the Dead Sea Scrolls and in a modern scroll, with the vowel sounds of Adonay added. Wikimedia Commons Go to Index of Articles in Canonical Order 4:3 it became a snake.

The First Water is the Body (excerpt) The Colorado River is the most endangered river in the United States—also, it is a part of my body. I carry a river. It is who I am: ‘Aha Makav. This is not metaphor. When a Mojave says, Inyech ‘Aha Makavch ithuum, we are saying our name. We are telling a story of our existence. The river runs through the middle of my body. --- What threatens white people is often dismissed as myth. I have never been true in America. America is my myth. --- When Mojaves say the word for tears, we return to our word for river, as if our river were flowing from our eyes. A great weeping is how you might translate it. Or a river of grief. --- I mean river as a verb. A happening. It is moving within me right now. --- The body is beyond six senses. Is sensual. An ecstatic state of energy, always on the verge of praying, or entering any river of movement. Energy is a moving river moving my moving body. In Mojave thinking, body and land are the same. The words are separated only by the letters ‘ii and ‘a: ‘iimat for body, ‘amat for land. In conversation, we often use a shortened form for each: mat-. Unless you know the context of a conversation, you might not know if we are speaking about our body or our land. You might not know which has been injured, which is remembering, which is alive, which was dreamed, which needs care. You might not know we mean both. --- What is this third point, this place that breaks a surface, if not the deep-cut and crooked bone bed where the Colorado River runs—a one-thousand-four-hundred-and-fifty-mile thirst—into and through a body? Berger called it the pre-verbal. Pre-verbal as in the body when the body was more than body. Before it could name itself body and be limited, bordered by the space body indicated. Pre-verbal is the place where the body was yet a green-blue energy greening, greened and bluing the stone, red and floodwater, the razorback fish, the beetle, and the cottonwoods’ and willows’ shaded shadows. Pre-verbal was when the body was more than a body and possible. One of its possibilities was to hold a river within it. --- If I was created to hold the Colorado River, to carry its rushing inside me, if the very shape of my throat, of my thighs is for wetness, how can I say who I am if the river is gone? --- Where I come from we cleanse ourselves in the river. I mean: The water makes us strong and able to move forward into what is set before us to do with good energy. We cannot live good, we cannot live at all, without water. If your builder could place a small red bird in your chest to beat as your heart, is it so hard for you to picture the blue river hurtling inside the slow muscled curves of my long body? Is it too difficult to believe it is as sacred as a breath or a star or a sidewinder or your own mother or your beloveds? If I could convince you, would our brown bodies and our blue rivers be more loved and less ruined? The Whanganui River in New Zealand now has the same legal rights of a human being. In India, the Ganges and Yamuna Rivers now have the same legal status of a human being. Slovenia’s constitution now declares access to clean drinking water to be a national human right. While in the United States, we are teargassing and rubber-bulleting and kenneling Natives trying to protect their water from pollution and contamination at Standing Rock in North Dakota. We have yet to discover what the effects of lead-contaminated water will be on the children of Flint, Michigan, who have been drinking it for years. America is a land of bad math and science. The Right believes Rapture will save them from the violence they are delivering upon the earth and water; the Left believes technology, the same technology wrecking the earth and water, will save them from the wreckage or help them build a new world on Mars. ---

The original use of the word Culture comes to us from Latin, where the verb “colere” means “to tend and care for, to cultivate, to encourage by preparation of outside conditions.” So, in its original form, Culture was the result of what you cared about.

Besides this, the grammatical forms and constructions in Russian are very peculiar, and present a great many strange irregularities. As an illustration of this we may take the future tense. The Russian verb has commonly a simple and a frequentative future. The latter is always regularly formed by means of an auxiliary with the infinitive, as in English, but the former is constructed in a variety of ways, for which no rule can be given, so that the simple future of each individual verb must be learned by a pure effort of memory. In many verbs it is formed by prefixing a preposition, but it is impossible to determine by rule which preposition should be used. Thus idu (I go) becomes poidu; pishu (I write) becomes napishu; pyu (I drink) becomes vuipyu, and so on.

Possessed of an absolute belief that there exists but one way of expressing one thing, one word to call it by, one adjective to qualify, one verb to animate it, he [Flaubert] gave himself to superhuman labour for the discovery, in every phrase, of that word, that verb, that epithet. In this way, he believed in some mysterious harmony of expression, and when a true word seemed to him to lack euphony still went on seeking another, with invincible patience, certain that he had not yet got hold of the unique word.... A thousand preoccupations would beset him at the same moment, always with this desperate certitude fixed in his spirit: Among all the expressions in the world, all forms and turns of expression, there is but one—one form, one mode—to express what I want to say.

In verbs, for example, the Anatolian languages had only two tenses, a present and a past, whereas the other ancient Indo-European languages had as many as six tenses. In nouns, Anatolian had just animate and neuter; it had no feminine case. The other ancient Indo-European languages had feminine, masculine, and neuter cases. The Anatolian languages also lacked the dual, a form that was used in other early Indo-European languages for objects that were doubled like eyes or ears. (Example: Sanskrit dēvas ‘one god’, but dēvau ‘double gods’.) Alexander Lehrman identified ten such traits that probably were innovations in Proto-Indo-European after Pre-Anatolian split away.

One of the earliest attempts to portray the human embodiment of the divine was made by the ancient Hindus a few centuries before the Christian era. In the ancient Hindu scriptures, the sacred hymns called the Vedas, the god Indra wandered about in many forms, sometimes as a bull and sometimes as a ram, and the god Varuna is said to have come out of the point of an arrow and appeared as a bull. [...] The Sanskrit terms used to express the manifestation of God coming into this world evolved from rupa, vapus, and tanu, to pradurbhava (appearance), and gradually there came about the Sanskirt word avatara, composed of two parts, the verb root tr, meaning pass or cross, and the prefix ava, signifying down. The finite verb form avatarati means 'he descends'. This passing, crossing, or coming down is symbolic of the passage of God from eternity into the temporal realm, from unconditioned to conditioned, from infinitude to finitude the descent of the divine to our world. A variant of the word avatara is the Sanskrit word avatarana, a term used to describe the entry of an actor upon the stage making his appearance from behind a curtain, just as the God-man manifests himself upon the world-stage coming down from heaven. The Anglicization of the Sanskrit term avatara is the word avatar, the word designated to describe the advent of the divine, God appearing on earth.

You might think that in any contact between folk speaking mutually unintelligible languages, some of the few things that would surely get through would be question words: who? what? when? which? where? how? why? After all, people who have trouble understanding one another must be constantly asking questions. Well, you'd be wrong. Typically, a Creole will acquire just one question word from its dominant European language. It might be "who," or "what," or "which" - it makes no difference, that word henceforth will signify just "Q for question." Then to this you have to add another word: "Q person" for "who?" "Q time" for "when?" "Q place" for "where?" and so on. Often it's even more opaque. Haitian Creole for "who?" is ki moun. Moun is the Haitian version of French monde, "world," so you might initially translate this as "who world?" Then you'd remember that le monde is used by the French to mean "people in general," so ki moun really does mean "Q person," or "who?" Not all Creoles have the full deck of two-piece question words-for a variety of reasons, some got lost or never took shape-but almost every Creole has at least one or two. In the oldest form of Guyanese, wissaid, derived from "which side," was the chosen for for "Q place." That meant that side could thereafter mean "place" and only "place" and therefore could no longer mean "side." But something meaning "side" still had to be said, so they co-opted "corner"; a road corner now means "by the side of the road." And these are only a few kinds of thing that can happen to words. For example, nouns can and often do turn into verbs. You don't dust a room, you cobweb it; you don't steal something, you thief (pronounced teef) it. This creates new gaps, which in turn have to be filled; since thief is now a verb, a thief has to become a teefman.

A new green economy can easily suffer from the same predatory form of capitalism that created the global economic meltdown. As Kenny Ausubel of Bioneers notes, "The world is suffering from the perverse incentives of 'unnatural capitalism.' When people say 'free market,' I ask if free is a verb. We don't ave a free market but a highly managed and often monopolized market. We used to have somewhat effective antitrust laws in the United States. Now we have banks and companies that are 'too big to fail,' but in truth are too big not to fail. The resulting extremes of concentration of wealth and political power are very bad for business and the economy (not to mention the environment, human rights, and democracy). One result is that small companies can't advance too far against the big players with their legions of lawyers and Capitol Hill lobbyists, when in truth it's small and medium-sized companies that provide the majority of jobs as well as innovation.

Upon closer inspection, however, we encounter our first surprise. The Hebrew word that is translated as “god”—ʾĕlōhîm—has a plural ending and could also be translated as “(the) gods.” One god or several gods? The same word may express both the singular and the plural, and only the form of the verb indicates which is intended. This ambiguity may perhaps be intended to prevent us from making a firm decision on one of these possibilities to the exclusion of the other.

Rules for the Use and Arrangement of Words The following rules for the use and arrangement of words will be found helpful in securing clearness and force. 1. Use words in their proper sense. 2. Avoid useless circumlocution and "fine writing." 3. Avoid exaggerations. 4. Be careful in the use of not ... and, any, but, only, not ... or, that. 5. Be careful in the use of ambiguous words, e. g., certain. 6. Be careful in the use of he, it, they, these, etc. 7. Report a speech in the first person where necessary to avoid ambiguity. 8. Use the third person where the exact words of the speaker are not intended to be given. 9. When you use a participle implying when, while, though, or that, show clearly by the context what is implied. 10. When using the relative pronoun, use who or which, if the meaning is and he or and it, for he or for it. 11. Do not use and which for which. 12. Repeat the antecedent before the relative where the non-repetition causes any ambiguity. 13. Use particular for general terms. Avoid abstract nouns. 14. Avoid verbal nouns where verbs can be used. 15. Use particular persons instead of a class. 16. Do not confuse metaphor. 17. Do not mix metaphor with literal statement. 18. Do not use poetic metaphor to illustrate a prosaic subject. 19. Emphatic words must stand in emphatic positions; i. e., for the most part, at the beginning or the end of the sentence. 20. Unemphatic words must, as a rule, be kept from the end. 21. The Subject, if unusually emphatic, should often be transferred from the beginning of the sentence. 22. The object is sometimes placed before the verb for emphasis. 23. Where several words are emphatic make it clear which is the most emphatic. Emphasis can sometimes be given by adding an epithet, or an intensifying word. 24. Words should be as near as possible to the words with which they are grammatically connected. 25. Adverbs should be placed next to the words they are intended to qualify. 26. Only; the strict rule is that only should be placed before the word it affects. 27. When not only precedes but also see that each is followed by the same part of speech. 28. At least, always, and other adverbial adjuncts sometimes produce ambiguity. 29. Nouns should be placed near the nouns that they define. 30. Pronouns should follow the nouns to which they refer without the intervention of any other noun. 31. Clauses that are grammatically connected should be kept as close together as possible. Avoid parentheses. 32. In conditional sentences the antecedent or "if-clauses" must be kept distinct from the consequent clauses. 33. Dependent clauses preceded by that should be kept distinct from those that are independent. 34. Where there are several infinitives those that are dependent on the same word must be kept distinct from those that are not. 35. In a sentence with if, when, though, etc. put the "if-clause" first. 36. Repeat the subject where its omission would cause obscurity or ambiguity. 37. Repeat a preposition after an intervening conjunction especially if a verb and an object also intervene. 38. Repeat conjunctions, auxiliary verbs, and pronominal adjectives. 39. Repeat verbs after the conjunctions than, as, etc. 40. Repeat the subject, or some other emphatic word, or a summary of what has been said, if the sentence is so long that it is difficult to keep the thread of meaning unbroken. 41. Clearness is increased when the beginning of the sentence prepares the way for the middle and the middle for the end, the whole forming a kind of ascent. This ascent is called "climax." 42. When the thought is expected to ascend but descends, feebleness, and sometimes confusion, is the result. The descent is called "bathos." 43. A new construction should not be introduced unexpectedly.

Nick Ellis (2002) explains, the emphasis is on the frequency with which learners encounter specific linguistic features in the input and the frequency with which language features occur together. According to this view, learners develop a stronger and stronger network of associations or connections between these features as well as between language features and the contexts in which they occur. Eventually, the presence of one situational or linguistic feature will activate the other(s) in the learner’s mind. For example, learners might get subject–verb agreement correct, not because they know a rule but because they have heard examples such as ‘I say’ and ‘he says’ so often that each subject pronoun activates the correct verb form.

To refer to the sick, the oath-proper uses the Greek kamnontōn (here and subsequently when speaking of going into houses, again using the same phrase “for the benefit of the sick”). This word is a form of the verb kamnō, meaning “to work,”“to be weary,” or “to be sick.” The participial form found in the oath-proper can in other contexts also refer to those who have entirely completed their work: the dead. By extension, it refers to those laboring, as it were, under an illness: the sick. (Of course, we typically speak of those for whom physicians care as patients, from the Latin verb patior, to suffer or undergo. Hence the Greek and Latin words both suggest that the ill bear sickness.)

CONDITIONAL a verb form used to talk about things that would happen or would be true under certain conditions, for example, I would help you if I could. It is also used to say what you would like or need, for example, Could you give me the bill?

STRONG VERB a German verb whose stem changes its vowel to form the imperfect tense and the past participle. Its past participle is not formed by adding –t to the verb stem. Also known as irregular verbs. Compare with weak verb.

comes in many forms, at any time. — Martha Pope Gorris —

Nak stepped him through the Narashtovik alphabet, which was nearly identical to Mallish but lacking three letters, and the subtleties of its pronunciation, which unlike the Mallish stew was regular and orderly as the board of a game of cotters, and which Nak claimed was close enough to Gaskan to sound like no more than a regional accent. He made Dante write it out five times, then speak each letter five more. He drilled Dante on the verb conjugations of Narashtovik and its relation to modern Gaskan. He showed him the structure of its grammar in simple sentences, taught him a handful of words, the precise laws of how a verb cycled through the tenses of the present, the past, the future, the subjunctive. He bade Dante write out a dozen verbs through each of their forms and left on some monkish errand. Busywork, Dante thought, and far too much to take in at once. That Nak wanted him to learn through rote memorization struck him as an insult.

Duress” figures in the title of this book to capture three principal features of colonial histories of the present: the hardened, tenacious qualities of colonial effects; their extended protracted temporalities; and, not least, their durable, if sometimes intangible constraints and confinements. Duress, durability, and duration in this work all share a politically inflected and afflicted historical etymology. But endurance figures here, as well, in the capacity to “hold out” and “last,” especially in its activated verb form, “to endure,” as a countermand to “duress” and its damaging and disabling qualities.

Rule number one: The Game is secret. But I listened and, once or twice when temptation drove me and the coast was clear, I peeked inside the box. This is what I learned. The Game was old. They'd been playing it for years. No, not playing. That is the wrong verb. Living; they had been living The Game for years. For The Game was more than its name suggested. It was a complex fantasy, an alternate world into which they escaped. There were no costumes, no swords, no feathered headdresses. Nothing that would have marked it as a game. For that was its nature. It was secret. Its only accoutrement was the box. A black lacquered case brought back from China by one of their ancestors; one of the spoils from a spree of exploration and plunder. It was the size of a square hatbox- not too big and not too small- and its lid was inlaid with semiprecious gems to form a scene: a river with a bridge across it, a small temple on one bank, a willow weeping from the sloping shore. Three figures stood atop the bridge and above them a lone bird circled. They guarded the box jealously, filled as it was with everything material to The Game. For although The Game demanded a good deal of running and hiding and wrestling, its real pleasure was enjoyed elsewhere. Rule number two: all journeys, adventures, explorations and sightings must be recorded. They would rush inside, flushed with danger, to record their recent adventures: maps and diagrams, codes and drawings, plays and books. The books were miniature, bound with thread, writing so small and neat that one had to hold them close to decipher them. They had titles: Escape from Koshchei the Deathless; Encounter with Balam and His Bear, Journey to the Land of White Slavers. Some were written in code I couldn't understand, though the legend, had I had the time to look, would no doubt have been printed on parchment and filed within the box. The Game was simple. It was Hannah and David's invention really, and as the oldest they were its chief instigators. They decided which location was ripe for exploration. The two of them had assembled a ministry of nine advisers- an eclectic group mingling eminent Victorians with ancient Egyptian kings. There were only ever nine advisers at any one time, and when history supplied a new figure too appealing to be denied inclusion, an original member would die or be deposed. (Death was always in the line of duty, reported solemnly in one of the tiny books kept inside the box.) Alongside the advisers, each had their own character. Hannah was Nefertiti and David was Charles Darwin. Emmeline, only four when governing laws were drawn up, had chosen Queen Victoria. A dull choice, Hannah and David agreed, understandable given Emmeline's limited years, but certainly not a suitable adventure mate. Victoria was nonetheless accommodated into The Game, most often cast as a kidnap victim whose capture was precipitant of a daring rescue. While the other two were writing up their accounts, Emmeline was allowed to decorate the diagrams and shade the maps: blue for the ocean, purple for the deep, green and yellow for land.

I only recently learned that my sister-in-law is employing what Hebrew scholars term the waw consecutive, an element of syntax upon which Hebrew stories are built. By prefixing a verb form with the letter waw in order to change tense, the writers of Hebrew Scripture move a story along by essentially saying, “And then, and then, and then.” “The composers of biblical prose,” wrote author and scholar Gregory Mobley, “appended the simplest conjunction, ‘and,’ to a line, gave it a little extra vocalization . . . doubled the initial consonant of the word to which the ‘and’ was attached, and voila: the Biblical Hebrew ‘and then.

When one turns to St. Paul against this Hellenistic background, the first point which leaps to attention is that Paul reserves energeia and energein (the active form of the corresponding verb) for the action of spiritual agents—God, Satan, or demons.4 This was quite unprecedented. Earlier sources had used both terms freely in a variety of ways, including for the action of material objects, human beings, and the natural elements, as well as of spiritual beings. This is true even of two sources that in other respects often provide important precedents for Pauline usage, the Septuagint and Philo of Alexandria.5 Paul’s restriction of energeia and energein to supernatural action was so striking that it apparently established a precedent for subsequent Christian literature. All occurrences of the two terms in the Apostolic Fathers refer to the action of God, Christ, angels, or demons. This association between energeia/energein and supernatural agency was not without an effect upon the meaning of the two terms. The energeia of a supernatural agent, when it is present in a human being, is most readily understood as a power or capacity for certain kinds of action. We accordingly find energeia shifting toward the meaning of “a capacity for action or accomplishment” (‘energy’ in sense 2), and energein shifting toward that of “to be active in a way that imparts an energy.

sn God. This frequently used Hebrew name for God (אֱלֹהִים,’elohim ) is a plural form. When it refers to the one true God, the singular verb is normally used, as here. The plural form indicates majesty; the name stresses God’s sovereignty and incomparability – he is the “God of gods.

It includes any form of communicating the gospel, and there are several New Testament verbs that convey this idea, such as martureo (“to testify” or “bear witness”), kerusso (“to herald”), parakaleo (“to exhort”), katangelo (“to proclaim”), or propheteuo (“to prophesy”), and didasko (“to teach”).

The actual Hebrew verb “create” (bara) also focuses our attention in this direction. In the Bible, only God can perform this action of bringing something into existence. What is even more intriguing is that the objects of this verb point consistently toward its connection to functional existence rather than material existence; e.g., God “creates” fire, cloud, destruction, calamity, darkness, righteousness and purity. This is much like the ancient Near Eastern way of thinking that it was more important to determine who controlled functions rather than who/what gave something its physical form. In the ancient world something was created when it was given a function. In the ancient world, the cosmos is less like a machine, more like a kingdom. ◆

Creation and Existence If creation is the act of bringing something into existence, we must ask what constituted existence in the ancient world. In our culture, we consider existence to be either material (i.e., having molecules/taking up space and extending to energy and subatomic particles) or experiential (e.g., abstractions such as love or time). Those definitions, however, are culturally determined. By contrast, in the ancient world something existed when it had a function—a role to play. In Mesopotamia one way to accomplish this was to name something, because a name designated a thing’s function or role. Thus, in the Babylonian creation account, bringing the cosmos into existence begins “When on high no name was given in heaven, nor below was the netherworld called by name . . . When no gods at all had been brought forth, none called by names, none destinies ordained, then were the gods formed.” In Egyptian accounts existence was associated with something having been differentiated. The god Atum is conceptualized as the primordial monad—the singularity embodying all the potential of the cosmos, from whom all things were separated and thereby created. The Genesis account includes both of these concepts as God separates and names. The actual Hebrew verb “create” (bara) also focuses our attention in this direction. In the Bible, only God can perform this action of bringing something into existence. What is even more intriguing is that the objects of this verb point consistently toward its connection to functional existence rather than material existence; e.g., God “creates” fire, cloud, destruction, calamity, darkness, righteousness and purity. This is much like the ancient Near Eastern way of thinking that it was more important to determine who controlled functions rather than who/what gave something its physical form. In the ancient world something was created when it was given a function. In the ancient world, the cosmos is less like a machine, more like a kingdom. ◆

In Mesopotamia one way to accomplish this was to name something, because a name designated a thing’s function or role. Thus, in the Babylonian creation account, bringing the cosmos into existence begins “When on high no name was given in heaven, nor below was the netherworld called by name . . . When no gods at all had been brought forth, none called by names, none destinies ordained, then were the gods formed.” In Egyptian accounts existence was associated with something having been differentiated. The god Atum is conceptualized as the primordial monad—the singularity embodying all the potential of the cosmos, from whom all things were separated and thereby created. The Genesis account includes both of these concepts as God separates and names. The actual Hebrew verb “create” (bara) also focuses our attention in this direction. In the Bible, only God can perform this action of bringing something into existence. What is even more intriguing is that the objects of this verb point consistently toward its connection to functional existence rather than material existence; e.g., God “creates” fire, cloud, destruction, calamity, darkness, righteousness and purity. This is much like the ancient Near Eastern way of thinking that it was more important to determine who controlled functions rather than who/what gave something its physical form. In the ancient world something was created when it was given a function. In the ancient world, the cosmos is less like a machine, more like a kingdom. ◆

In French, as in other romance languages, speakers are forced to choose whether they’ll address someone using the respectful form (vous) or the familiar form (tu). Even English, which doesn’t embed status into verb conjugations, embeds it elsewhere. Until recently, Americans addressed strangers and superiors using title plus last name (Mrs. Smith, Dr. Jones), whereas intimates and subordinates were called by first name.

[…] il y aurait beaucoup de choses à dire sur le symbolisme de la langue arabe qui connait les trois formes de flexion pour les noms et pour les verbes. Par ses propriétés symboliques d’une façon générale la langue arabe est particulièrement susceptible d’être un instrument initiatique. La révélation du Coran dans cette langue s’explique d’ailleurs par ces vertus symboliques […] Comme suite à ce que nous avons dit dans une note précédente au sujet de l’arabe comme instrument initiatique, nous préciserons ici que certaines formules incantatoires du dhikr sont plus particulièrement basées sur l’emploi de sons correspondants aux trois voyelles. Le ‘repos vocaliques’ (sukûn) qui marque un ‘arrêt’ et une sortie hors du temporel a dans le même ordre d’applications une signification absolument transcendante et inconditionnée » . « Le Livre du Nom de Majesté : ALLÂH », E.T. n° 268 Juin 1948,

There are two hygge-related verbs: 1. Hygger—present indicative verbal form, a new non-reflexive verb Hyggede—past verbal form At have det hyggeligt—”to have it hyggelig”: to be in a situation characterized by hygge 2. Hygger sig—an older form; the light reflexive verb (to hygge oneself/themselves) Hygger sig describes the experience of hygge alone with an emphasis on personal feelings of well-being. The light reflexive particle sig encodes personal perspective but cancels some of the social connotations of hygge. Phrases using the verb hygge are commonly used in everyday speech, particularly when saying good-bye: Hyg dig! Ka’ du hygge dig! Du må hygge dig!

To Yahweh" “YHWH is definitely a verb form. We can take comfort in the certain knowledge that God is a verb, not a noun or an adjective.” – The Gifts of the Jews, Thomas Cahill God is the spray on your lip from the freshly-poured ginger ale. No, God is the arrival on your lip of the spray. The arcing. The spree. God is definitely not that weird sexuality of wild bird rehabilitators. God is, instead, waves blown back hard from the shore. At night. Perhaps he is the rumbling scaring done by the haunted freight train, the shrill ghouls in the back cars climbing over each other to escape. God is weequashing: The spearing of eels or fish from a canoe by torchlight. God is the inventing of words like weequashing. She is not the fire darkening down. She is the goldfinch singing the whisper song. And the birthing of a second child, to feel your body blooming. To feel head, then shoulders, thighs then cord tumbling. To live. To life! To give the initial downbeat to the tympanis. To cure mice by placing them in a cello. To do whatever the scarecrow did with his brains. And to make that acrid or burned quality of the smell of space. To crow, to fly, to gild and gnaw. To mean. Shape, shear, smear and shine. Play and improvise. To last.

Sam sat in the chair.” Incorporate a bit of action into the picture, and impact sharpens: “Sam slumped in the chair,” or “Sam twisted in the chair,” or “Sam rose from the chair,” or “Sam shoved back the chair.” To repeat: Active verbs are what you need . . . verbs that show something happening, and thus draw your reader’s mental image more sharply into focus. For a vivid, vital, forward-moving story, cut the to be forms out of your copy every time you possibly can. “The trooper was pounding” is never as strong as “The trooper pounded.

At its most basic and bare bones, a story is this: Characters do shit. Characters say shit. Repeat until end. And even in that, there maybe exists a needless deviation—we often separate action and dialogue but, really, dialogue is action. Talk is a verb. To communicate is to do something, perhaps one of the most vital forms of “doing something” that we have available to us as humans. We often dismiss that, though, right? Oh, that’s just talk. We pretend like words are not meaningful, like they’re just hot air. But that’s not true at all. Dialogue and communication are as vital as any other action, and in fact contain layers—because dialogue can be savvier, more sinister, more affecting.

The verb translated “administered” is diakoneō, the verbal form of diakonia (“ministry”). Recall from verse 4 that Paul refers to the collection itself as diakonia, thereby meaning that it is part of the †new covenant ministry of reconciliation (3:7–11; 5:18). The aid given by †Gentile Christians to their Jewish counterparts in Jerusalem serves as a symbol of God’s work of reconciling all peoples to himself and to one another (see Eph 2:14–16). For this reason, the collection is for the glory of the Lord.

It’s a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn’t only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other word? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take ‘good,’ for instance. If you have a word like ‘good,’ what need is there for a word like ‘bad’? ‘Ungood’ will do just as well—better, because it’s an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of ‘good,’ what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like ‘excellent’ and ‘splendid’ and all the rest of them? ‘Plusgood’ covers the meaning, or ‘doubleplusgood’ if you want something stronger still. Of course we use those forms already, but in the final version of Newspeak there’ll be nothing else. In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words—in reality, only one word. Don’t you see the beauty of that, Winston

Old Testament authors often used paronomasia (or wordplay), and the expression “the LORD God formed the man [ʾādām] from the dust of the ground [ʾădāmâ]” emphasizes humanity’s relationship to the land (Gn 2:7). There is grammatical evidence for reading “Adam” as a personal name for the first time in Genesis 4:25–26 (or perhaps 5:1–2). Likewise, the names “Eve” and “Eden” have symbolic significance for our narrator. “Eve” (ḥawwâ) is a wordplay on the verb for “live,” and therefore explains the man’s comment that she would “become the mother of all the living” (Gn 3:20). The garden’s name “Eden” should be associated with the Hebrew word “pleasure” or “delight.” It is also likely that other names in the Genesis narrative, such as Cain and Abel, have symbolic significance.

The wife’s title was the feminine form (οἰκοδέσποινα) of “the master of the house” (οἰκοδεσπότης). Paul uses the verb form of the word in 1 Timothy 5:14: “So I would have younger widows marry, bear children, and rule their households [οἰκοδεσποτέω], so as to give the adversary no occasion to revile us” (NRSV). Most translations demote the authoritative meaning of the word to refer to “management,” which conveys a sense of delegation rather than the authority that the term and the culture attributed to the woman who was in charge of the extended household.

His speech was plain, despite his beautiful voice, his verb forms almost disparaging.

Sometimes the extract is not an erasure, But an expansion. It is not a cut, but a culmination. Not a gash, but a growth. Life has taken the suffix -ship, made it a verb, Taken a sound & given it momentum. That's what only words can do -- Prod us toward something new & in doing so, move us closer -> together Perhaps our relationships are the very make of us, For fellowship is both our nature & our necessity. We are formed primarily by what we imagine.