3 MIN READ

What’s the Difference Between ‘Comprise’ and ‘Compose’?

If you’ve ever avoided using the terms “comprise” and “compose” because you weren’t quite sure of the difference between them, this one’s for you. Here’s how to accurately describe parts of a whole using these verbs.

by Rachel Gresh
bouquet of peonies and roses

English has a way of humbling even the most meticulous grammarians. I’d venture to guess that many of us have confused or swapped “comprise” and “compose” at least once or twice. Not only do they sound similar, but both verbs deal with how parts relate to a whole. By definition, “comprise” means “consist of; be made up of,” while “compose” (when referring to elements) means “constitute or make up (a whole).” Simple, right? Not quite. In practice, the nuance between these two words can bewilder even the most seasoned writers. But there’s a trick for telling them apart, and it all depends on the order of the sentence.

Consider this example: “The U.S. comprises 50 states” vs. “The United States composes 50 states.” The first option is correct, but why? “Comprise” is used when the thing that is the whole is listed before the parts. Conversely, “compose” is used when the parts are listed before the whole. Following this rule, we can flip the previous example around for the correct usage of “compose”: “Fifty states compose the United States.” The parts (the 50 states) come before the whole (the United States).

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Here’s another example. Let’s picture a bouquet of flowers. You might say, “The bouquet comprises roses and peonies” because the whole (the bouquet) comprises the parts (roses and peonies). Similarly, you’d say, “Roses and peonies compose the bouquet” because the parts (roses and peonies) compose the whole (the bouquet).

However, knowing the difference between “comprise” and “compose” isn’t the only difficulty here. Another common blunder is the phrase “is comprised of,” as in, “The bouquet is comprised of roses and peonies.” According to grammarians, this use of passive voice is never correct — it would be like saying “is sold of” instead of “sells.” However, you can say, “The bouquet is composed of roses and peonies.” (In this passive form, the previous guidance about the parts being before the whole doesn’t apply.) The mistake with passive voice likely happens because of the confusion between “comprise” and “compose,” but if neither “compose” nor “comprise” fits the bill, you might try “constitute,” a verb that means “to be (a part) of a whole.”

If you’re feeling swept up in the “comprise” vs. “compose” conundrum, you’re not alone, but now you know the key to determining the difference: “Comprise” starts with the whole, and “compose” starts with the parts. And you receive bonus points if you avoid the phrase “is comprised of” altogether. If this is still too tedious, there’s no shame in using tried-and-true stand-ins like “includes,” “consists of,” or “makes up” — they’re clear, correct, and easier to remember. 

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2 MIN READ

Why Do We Talk About ‘Stealing Someone’s Thunder’?

The origins of “stealing someone’s thunder” are somewhat scandalous. They can be traced to the theatrical world of 18th-century England, so let’s raise the curtain and examine what happened.

by Bennett Kleinman
Clouds and lightning strikes over the ocean

There’s a certain episode in season 7 of Friends in which Monica accuses Rachel of several instances of “stealing her thunder.” Maybe I was etymologically naive, but I thought the writers of the show created this expression, which refers to doing or saying something that another person was planning on, and thus taking away the credit or attention that the other person may have deserved. But with a little bit of research, I found out the saying originated in the theater world of 18th-century England.

The story goes that in 1709, a struggling playwright, John Dennis, staged a London production of Appius and Virginia. For this performance, Dennis created a mechanism that could replicate the sound of thunder. While there are no surviving records of how it worked, reportedly the device was successful in mimicking the booming noise. However, the play was far less successful, and the production was forced to close after just four nights.

Soon after this failed run, the very same theater staged a production of Shakespeare’s Macbeth. Dennis attended opening night, only to discover that his thunder machine had been purloined and used in the show. He reportedly stood up and shouted something to the effect of, “They will not let my play run, but they steal my thunder!” This very literal exclamation supposedly gave rise to the idiom that’s used more generically today.

Nowadays, “stealing someone’s thunder” is applied in a variety of ways. It can refer to literal theft like it originally did, or it can be said as a reaction to some social drama (e.g., someone beating you in sharing an idea at work or a cousin or a friend getting engaged at your wedding).

If Dennis were alive today, perhaps he could take solace in knowing he left an indelible mark on the English language, even if he failed to make the same impact theatrically.

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3 MIN READ

Why Cursive Writing and Penmanship Is Important

Penmanship is a dying art form, but that doesn’t mean handwriting is any less important or useful. Let’s take a look at the history of cursive writing to learn how a skill that was once widespread has since declined.

by Jennifer A. Freeman
Closeup of Old-Fashioned Penmanship Guide

As today’s communication is dominated by keyboards and touchscreens, the art of penmanship is dying out. For hundreds of years, personal style was expressed through stylish script and signatures. But in recent decades, cursive penmanship has become less prominent, in part because many American grade schools dropped it from the curriculum in the 2010s (though about half the states have added it back in the last few years). Let’s explore the history of cursive writing and script and why mastering penmanship remains relevant in our digital age.

Cursive as a Status Symbol

Good penmanship has long been considered a status symbol, indicating wealth, privilege, and education access. The ancient Romans borrowed aspects of the Etruscan alphabet to create an early written script for transactions and correspondence. However, by the Roman Empire’s fall, penmanship had become a specialized discipline rarely seen outside monastic settings. This is evidenced by the beautiful illuminated manuscripts from monasteries before the Renaissance.

To give a very brief overview of the development of European penmanship styles, in the late eighth century, Charlemagne — the King of the Franks and Holy Roman Emperor — instructed an English monk to standardize the craft of penmanship. This resulted in the Carolingian minuscule, a writing style that included lowercase letters, word separation, and punctuation. In the Middle Ages, the increasing costs of parchment led to a denser style of script. However, upon the invention of the printing press in the mid-15th century, a heavier typeface dominated, but Italian humanists responded by creating a more elegant handstyle, known as “italic.” 

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Handwriting was a status symbol, leading to the emergence of penmanship schools in the New World by the 1700s, while poorer people taught themselves to write by copying from manuals. In addition to indicating education and wealth, penmanship also signified gender, as men and women were expected to flourish their writing differently. “Feminine” writing often appeared more curved and bowed-out than straighter “masculine” writing.

In the mid-1800s, abolitionist Platt Rogers Spencer attempted to democratize American penmanship by developing a cursive writing system that was adopted by many schools and businesses. His Spencerian script can be seen in the original Coca-Cola logo. This idea of teaching a single penmanship style caught on, and in the 19th and 20th centuries, cursive English was standardized in American schools. As cities grew and job prospects, such as secretarial positions, opened outside of fields and factories, strong writing skills were required. In many ways, good penmanship meant improved opportunities.

Handwriting for Memory’s Sake

Why don’t more people born after the 1990s have strong penmanship skills? The answer is simple — computers. While penmanship is still rigorously taught in many European schools, current American schoolchildren spend more time mastering typing and computer skills than practicing neat handwriting. But traditional handwriting offers unique cognitive benefits that typing simply can’t replicate.

Today, we may not need to pass a penmanship test to get a job, but it’s still a valuable skill to cultivate outside of school. Research shows that handwriting notes activates multiple brain regions associated with optimal memory, much more so than digital devices. Taking down information by hand or writing a to-do list on paper will preserve that memory longer than typing it into a laptop or phone.

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2 MIN READ

Should ‘Funnest’ Be a Word?

Fellow wordsmiths would likely agree that parsing the English language is lots of fun. But is it the funnest thing to do? And is “funnest” even a word? Let’s take a look.

by Bennett Kleinman
woman celebrating birthday with family at home

Adding the suffix “-est” to a word amps up the intensity. For example, eating a hot pepper may leave a tingle on your taste buds, but eating the hottest pepper will likely have you scrambling for a jug of milk. Sometimes, however, the use of this suffix bumps up against common grammatical conceptions. Such is the case with “fun” and “funnest” — is “funnest” even a word, or is it a linguistic taboo?

If you have the time of your life on a vacation or at a party, you may be tempted to say it was the funnest experience you ever had. But some sticklers raise their brows at the comparative adjective, decrying it as too informal and perhaps not even a valid word at all. Instead, many people defer to “most fun,” lest they risk misspeaking.

But if you ask Merriam-Webster, “funnest” is a perfectly acceptable word that suffers from a lack of widespread use. People are unjustifiably trepidatious about using the superlative form of the adjective “fun.” The evidence shows  “funnest” appeared in print as far back as the 1870s, when it was used in a similar context to how people use it today. 

So, even if some detractors would rather the word “funnest” not exist because it sounds like something a child would say, the word’s 150-year history can’t be denied. “Funnest” is very real, and sometimes it’s OK to use simple terms to express ourselves — especially about how much fun we’re having. 

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3 MIN READ

How Can You Spot (and Fix) Run-On Sentences?

Writing 101 teaches you to fear a run-on sentence. Here’s a refresher on some simple rules for how to avoid them.

by Julia Rittenberg
Close-up of human hands doing paperwork

Every writer has their quirks and foibles, and one of my grammatical sins is relying on an abundance of run-on sentences — but I have a good reason for it. Throughout high school and a bit of college, I took Latin classes. After getting a firm foundation in grammar and vocabulary basics, we moved into translating poetry and prose. Latin prose is notorious for especially lengthy sentences. The long sentences composed by Roman scholar and statesman Cicero are a rite of passage for Latin students, with examples full of digressions and overlapping clauses and multiple verb tenses. After being immersed in Caesar and Cicero, I found my English sentences got longer and longer. I am, with the help of editors, working on brevity.  

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A run-on sentence, as defined by the Sweetland Center for Writing at the University of Michigan, is “two or more independent clauses incorrectly presented in a single sentence.” It’s a common error, especially when students start to express more complex ideas. Consider a sentence in a hypothetical book report about Pride and Prejudice: 

Elizabeth Bennet rejects Mr. Darcy's first proposal she grows to love him. 

Spot the issue? There are a few ways to fix it. The two clauses are connected, but they present two different ideas. You can separate them into two sentences, or use a comma and a conjunction. 

Elizabeth Bennet rejects Mr. Darcy's first proposal. She grows to love him.  
Elizabeth Bennet rejects Mr. Darcy's first proposal, but she grows to love him.

A semicolon would fix the run-on sentence as well; it requires two complete clauses on either side of it and no conjunction. Avoid inserting just a comma, without a conjunction, because that would create the separate issue of a comma splice. In some cases, however, you can use subordinating conjunctions, such as “while,” “when,” “because,” “although,” and “since,” without a comma. 

Elizabeth Bennet rejects Mr. Darcy's first proposal; she grows to love him.  
Elizabeth Bennet rejects Mr. Darcy's first proposal because she doesn’t yet love him.

Outside of the prescribed grammar rules, a run-on sentence may be identified as a sentence with too many ideas stuffed into it. If your sentences are running into three lines of text, try breaking up the clauses. 

Some acclaimed authors are known for lengthy and meandering sentences, but we can’t all write like James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, or Gabriel García Márquez. For the rest of us, short sentences provide momentum. Mixing up sentence structure also can be a fun writing challenge. You don’t have to give up your long sentences entirely — I certainly haven’t — but a skilled writer knows how to vary their style and break grammar rules when it enhances their storytelling.  

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2 MIN READ

Do You Know What a Jacket Potato Is?

Americans and Brits don’t just have different accents — sometimes they refer to the exact same object using different words. This is especially true in the culinary world, so let’s take a look at some common examples.

by Bennett Kleinman
Aerial view of Baked filled potatoes

My YouTube feed is full of food content, and lately I’ve been noticing some differences in what I call certain foods and what those same foods are called by British people. In particular, hot and ready potatoes are a popular street food in the United Kingdom, where they’re called “jacket potatoes.” To me, this calls up a mental image of cute little potatoes with googly eyes and tiny felt coats, but they’re actually what I (and most Americans) know as “baked potatoes.” The language is the same, but key vocabulary differences between British and American English dialects have always intrigued me, so I did a little more research on the difference between jacket potatoes and baked potatoes. 

While there are plenty of differences in dialects for clothing words, “jacket” as a lightweight outer garment is the same on both sides of the pond. The linguistic divide comes into play with a secondary definition for “jacket,” referring to the skin of a potato. British people refer to this particular form of potato by its skin, while those in the U.S. came to refer to it by the cooking method instead.

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Though largely the same, there are some slight differences between baked potatoes and jacket potatoes. For instance, jacket potatoes are usually cooked longer than their baked brethren — sometimes over an hour to ensure crispier skin. The toppings are also different depending on the location. While Americans prefer cheese, bacon, chives, and sour cream, British people go for a broader variety of toppings: cheese, baked beans, coleslaw, and even tuna fish.

All the differences in food terminology are fascinating, but I do have some favorites. Americans say “eggplant,” while Brits say “aubergine,” and a zucchini in New York is a courgette in London. And don’t get me started on the divide between fries and chips or cookies and biscuits. The opinions on appropriate condiments, textures, and flavor combinations could fill a book. 

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2 MIN READ

 Why Do We Say “Spring Fever”?

If you find yourself sneezing in springtime, it could be seasonal allergies. Or maybe it’s spring fever — a concept that dates to the 17th century.

by Bennett Kleinman
woman enjoying the sun in a flower field

Maybe you’ve had the itchy eyes and runny nose of seasonal allergies lately, but warmer weather also brings on the lifted spirits commonly known as “spring fever.” This idiomatic sensation is usually associated with feelings of excitement and perhaps restlessness after being cooped up in the winter months. But in the earliest days of this expression, it was more likely to be used to describe an actual ailment, one later identified as scurvy.

According to the Oxford English Dictionary, the term “spring fever” came about by the late 17th century, but in those days, “spring fever” or “spring disease” was associated with painful symptoms such as swollen gums and achy joints. In the book Plagues and Poxes, author Alfred J. Bollet notes that many American colonists suffered from a common mysterious ailment as winter transitioned to spring. With modern medical knowledge at our disposal, we now know this was scurvy, a disease caused by a vitamin C deficiency, which most likely occurred due to the lack of fresh produce available in the cold winter months. As time progressed, people realized that this illness’s connection to spring was merely a coincidence.

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In time, “spring fever” shed its unpleasant connotation, and the phrase came to refer to the sense of excitement many people feel as the days get longer and warmer. This is especially true for those who suffer from seasonal affective disorder — these people are more prone to depression during colder months and show more obvious swings toward happiness in the spring. Part of this has to do with increased sunlight and warmth triggering the brain to produce mood-boosting chemicals such as serotonin.

So while “spring fever” isn’t worth seeing a doctor over, it’s definitely a real sensation that many people experience on a seasonal basis. Maybe a physician could help you with those annoying seasonal allergies, though.

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4 MIN READ

The Most Beautiful Words in the English Language, According to Linguists

They say beauty is in the eye of the beholder — or in this case, the linguist. Find out what some experts consider to be the most beautiful English words.

by Bennett Kleinman
Close-up of wooden letters

If you were to ask 100 different people to pick the most beautiful word in the English language, you’d probably get 100 different answers. There’s a seemingly endless list to choose from, as some words evoke pleasant memories, while others sound mellifluous to the ear. While there’s no way to reach a universal consensus, many esteemed linguists have favorites of their own. These are a few of them.

Ailurophile

Accomplished linguist Dr. Robert Beard compiled a list of what he personally considers to be the 100 most beautiful English words. Up first — at least alphabetically — is “ailurophile,” which appropriately sounds quite alluring. The word, which essentially means “cat lover,” is derived from the Greek ailuros, meaning “cat,” and phile, meaning “lover.” Its origins date back to the 1910s, though the word continues to make the hearts of linguists purr today. Not only does it sound pleasant, but it also evokes the beautiful connection that humans have with their beloved pets.

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Tremulous

In 1995, wordsmith David Crystal unveiled a “matrix of criteria” that maps what makes certain words more beautiful than others. The word “tremulous” — meaning “shaking or quivering slightly” — fit every category. According to Crystal, beautiful words should contain three or more syllables, put a stress on the first syllable, and include an /m/ sound (as in “make”) and an /l/ sound (as in “all”). Six additional criteria relate to different manners of articulation and sounds made with different parts of the mouth, and “tremulous” hits every mark to a T, much to Crystal’s delight.

Murmuring

According to lifelong lexicographer Wilfred J. Funk, “murmuring” is one of the most beautiful English words. It’s defined as a soft, low sound, often spoken by a person or group, though the meaning isn’t the only reason it’s considered so beautiful. Rather, it’s the way the word is pronounced, with a double /m/ sound, as we touched on in the prior section. Three syllables and a wider variety of tones make “murmuring” more appealing than just “murmur.” According to Funk’s list, other beautiful words include “hush,” “lullaby,” and “luminous,” all of which sound pleasant and evoke positive feelings.

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Nefarious

Lucy Bella Simkins, a popular British YouTuber with over 12 million subscribers,  created a video of 15 of the most beautiful English words. “Nefarious” — a word with a less beautiful meaning of “wicked or criminal” — made her list. Despite the criminal connotation, Simkins maintains the word is delightful to say and hear due to its expressiveness. She also praises the /eə/ sound in the middle, which adds to its euphonic appeal.

Mother

The British Council — a U.K. organization for cultural relations — conducted a 2004 survey among 40,000 non-English speakers to find the most beautiful word in English. The result was “mother,” beating out runners-up “passion” and “smile.” Chris Wade, the organization’s director of communications, noted, “All of us have a mother and have a reasonable idea of who that person is. It’s one piece of certainty we can have and it’s a very powerful word in a variety of cultures.” The word clearly evokes comfort in many cultures around the world, adding to its beauty.

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Radiance

In 1911, the Public Speaking Club of America offered a prize to challenge people to come up with the most beautiful English words, based on sound and meaning. New York lawyer James Shea submitted 21 words that were accepted, one of which was “radiance,” meaning “light or heat as emitted or reflected by something.” Both the sound and meaning of the word earned it a spot on the list, alongside “happiness” and “splendor.” “Grace” and “justice,” however, were disqualified for the harsh sounds made by the first letters.

Cellar Door

We’d be remiss if we left off what some consider to be the most beautiful pairing of words in the English language: “cellar door.” Many have praised this combo for its euphonious sound. Journalist H. L. Mencken called it “intrinsically musical, in clang-tint and rhythm,” while Lord of the Rings author J.R.R. Tolkien was a noted fan of its beauty. In 1963, author C. S. Lewis admitted his astonishment when he saw the phrase written as “Selladore,” which he found an “enchanting proper name.”

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2 MIN READ

What Are Gerunds?

When is a verb not a verb? When it’s a gerund — an “-ing” verb acting like a noun. “Gerunds” might be a new word for you, but you use them every day.

by Rachel Gresh
High angle view of man reading a book while relaxing in bed

Picture this: It’s Friday night and your plans include eating pizza while binge-watching Netflix (same!). Not only are these stellar plans, but you’ve also used not one but two gerund phrases. A gerund will always end in “-ing,” but it must fit some other requirements. It’s based on a verb, so it expresses an action or a state of being, but it functions as a noun. From grade school, we know that nouns are people, places, things, or ideas, but in grammar, they perform specific functions. In a sentence, they might be a subject, direct object, subject complement, or object of preposition. So if you spot an “-ing” verb that looks like it’s performing one of those jobs, it’s a gerund. In the above example, “eating” and “binge-watching” are subject complements of “plans.” Let’s look at some of the most common usages of gerunds. 

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Many times, gerunds are the subject of the sentence, as in, “Running is a healthy hobby.” While “running” is traditionally a verb, in this case, it’s moonlighting as a noun. (The verb “is” works as a linking verb.) Gerund phrases are formed when a gerund has modifiers or objects related to it. For example, “Reading books is the best way to spend a rainy day” features the gerund phrase “reading books.” Here, the gerund is “reading” (a verb acting as a noun), the object of the gerund is “books,” and the verb is “is.”

Gerunds are also commonly found as the direct object of a verb (the thing being acted upon). Consider the sentence, “I enjoy baking cookies.” Here, “enjoy” is the verb, and “baking” is a gerund — it acts as a noun and is the direct object of “baking.” So, “baking cookies” is a gerund phrase. 

But wait — why is it called a “gerund”? This word comes from the Latin gerundum, meaning “to be carried out.” In English, it’s used to refer to those shapeshifting “-ing” verbs that act as nouns, marking thousands of years of grammar evolution. 

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2 MIN READ

What’s the Difference Between ‘Anyway’ and ‘Any Way’?

These homonyms have drastically different uses: one as an adverb and the other as a noun phrase. You might think you know the difference, but let’s have a grammar review anyway.

by Rachel Gresh
American rock group Journey, New York, 1978

As the legendary rock band Journey tells us: “Any way you want it / That’s the way you need it.” Journey wasn’t just delivering their first big hit of the ’80s with these lyrics — they were also (unintentionally) giving us a grammar lesson about the commonly confused homonyms “any way” and “anyway.” Only one of these words is suitable for the title of the rock anthem “Any Way You Want It.”

First, let’s look at “any way,” the term used in the song you might have heard at a karaoke bar or in the background of your favorite movie or TV show. “Any way” means “in any matter” or “by any means.” In this case, “any” is an adverb meaning “at all; in some degree (used for emphasis),” and “way” is a noun meaning “a method, style, or manner of doing something.” Consider the song lyrics — they’re all about flexibility and freedom. In another context, you might say, “I wanted to help in any way I could,” suggesting that you would help however possible. 

Its counterpart, “anyway,” is used quite differently. “Anyway” is an adverb that most often means “regardless” or “in any case,” as in, “I’m not feeling very social, but I’ll go to the party anyway.” In a casual sense, it can help us change topics as a transition word or bridge that shifts the focus to something else: “Anyway, let’s talk about something more upbeat.” Keeping this in mind, a swap of Journey’s lyrics to include “anyway” instead of “any way” wouldn’t make sense at all.

Now, you might be thinking: “What about ‘anyways‘?” This word is actually an informal substitute for “anyway.” According to Merriam-Webster, it means the same thing as “anyway” but should be reserved for casual conversation and not formal writing. Adding to the confusion, in British English, “anyways” is used in formal situations, so it’s not uncommon to mix this up. The next time you’re typing up an email or shouting out song lyrics, remember that these homonyms (and their companion, “anyways”) might sound the same, but they produce different meanings, any way you slice it. 

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