I very soon became able to understand a great deal without (even mentally) translating it; I was beginning to think in Greek. That is the real Rubicon to cross in learning any language.
Those in whom the Greek word lives only while they are hunting for it in the lexicon, and who then substitute the English word for it, are not reading Greek at all; they are only solving a puzzle.
The very formula, “Naus means a ship,” is wrong. Naus and ship both mean a thing, they do not mean one another. Behind Naus, and behind navis or naca, we want to have a picture of a dark, slender mass with sail or oars, climbing the ridges, with no officious English word intruding.
Growth for the sake of growth [as in “growing the economy”] is the ideology of the cancer cell.
Cancer has no purpose but growth; but it does have another result—the death of the host.
On a l’impression en France qu’en lisant un bouquin de Tolstoï ou Dickens, on lit Tolstoï ou Dickens : mais c’est stupide ! Pour lire Dickens il faut lire l’anglais ! Si vous écoutez une œuvre musicale ou si vous allez au théâtre voir Hamlet, ce que vous regardez ce n’est pas Hamlet, vous le savez bien ! Vous regardez Hamlet vu par un metteur en scène.
Aussi le traducteur en tant que sujet situe (ou “met en scene”) le texte original dans une autre langue:
Tout ce que je dis, c’est que par nature, la traduction est une interprétation. Il ne peut pas y avoir de traduction objective, parce que c’est quelqu’un qui fait une traduction. Quand je dis “par nature” ça veut dire que ce n’est ni bien ni mal, c’est un fait de l’ordre de l’existant. Alors que faut-il demander à une traduction ? Ce n’est pas qu’elle soit fidèle, mais qu’elle soit cohérente, c’est-à-dire qu’elle soit une lecture, et une lecture appliquée. Une lecture pratique.
via L’Oeil électrique.
The phrase “State of the Art” turns 100 and according to an article in The Smart Set, it is not aging well.
I bumped into a list of 1000 “Essentialist Explanations” in the form “Language X is essentially language Y under conditions Z”.
Here are a few of my favorites:
Basque is essentially the distance between kaixo and agur.
English is essentially the language of people who think that everybody else speaks their language. French is essentially the language of people who think that everybody else should speak theirs.
Italian is essentially Tuscan dialect as spoken by a Lombard.
A language with its sleeves rolled up and its necktie loosened. (…) [I]t is “the language that says ‘no’. No to piety, to religion, to ideology and all its permutations, to honour, nobility, patriotism and their kindred infantilisms (…)”.
It is all those words we wouldn’t utter in a job interview or in front of a maiden aunt. And it is an endless source of pleasure, which explains why dictionaries of slang are so appealing.
See also: Who cheques the chequer?
Eye halve a spelling chequer,
It came with my Pea Sea.
It plane lee marks four my revue
Miss steaks I can knot sea.
Eye ran this poem threw it,
Your shore real glad two no.
Its vary polished in it’s weigh.
My chequer tolled me sew. (OUPblog)
At one point, people used to “criticize” each other. But then it was too harsh and hurtful to criticize, so instead, people started “giving criticism” to each other. (Notice the shift from a direct to a more indirect voice.) This was still too hard for many, so then we start to “give constructive criticism.” (Note the addition of a positive adjective — lessening the impact of a negative phrase.)But this was too long to say so then we stopped giving constructive criticism and started “to critique” — which has come to mean “high end criticism.” This then gave way to “giving critiques” (note the same pattern of lessening the impact by turning it from a verb into a noun). This one, however, didn’t last, and was quickly replaced by “giving feedback,” which then became “providing feedback” (note give — provide adds an additional syllable: longer words conceal more than smaller words do) — which is where we remain today.
Although we’re still “giving/providing feedback” today, that’s just starting to be replaced by its successor: “providing developmental feedback.” (Note, again, another example of adding a positive adjective to a negative phrase.)
This pattern is more invidious than it seems to be at face value: big words often hide big deeds, and big deeds are more often than not bad deeds. One of the key weapons in fighting the laziness of thought (and all the problems that derive from this) is through clarity in language. (Random thoughts)
So here we are in the era of Word’s red-underline “wrong spelling, dumb ass” feature and Outlook’s Always Check Spelling Before Sending option, and still the mistakes proliferate. Catching typos is easy (although not everyone does it). It’s the other stuff — correctly spelled but incorrectly wielded — that sneaks through and makes us look stupid. Here’s a quick review of some of the big ones.
#1: Loose for lose
#2: It’s for its (or god forbid, its’)
#3: They’re for their for there
#4: i.e. for e.g.
#5: Effect for affect
#6: You’re for your
#7: Different than for different from
#8 Lay for lie
#9: Then for than
#10: Could of, would of for could have, would have