Much like with identical twins, it’s easy to mix up two words that look similar. This is why so many people confuse “supposedly” and “supposably,” the latter of which is often thought to be a misspelling or misuse of the former. But “supposably” is a very real word in its own right, so let’s take a look at what distinguishes these two words.
According to Merriam-Webster, “supposedly” means “according to what is or was said.” It dates to the end of the 16th century and comes from the Middle English supposen, meaning “to make a hypothesis.” “Supposably,” on the other hand, essentially acts as a synonym for the word “conceivably.” Its first usage is dated just a few decades later, in 1627. At first glance, these definitions are similar, but there’s a difference that we can attempt to clarify with the following hypothetical scenario.
Imagine your friend tells you about a new restaurant in town. She says “Supposedly, the chef trained in Paris and makes the best croissants outside of France.” This statement means it’s an opinion according to what your friend has heard. She’s repeating it to you, but there’s not a definitive confirmation.
Now you’re looking forward to a visit to the café and you think to yourself: “If they really can make a croissant that rivals the ones I had in Paris, they would supposably be the best in the country.” “Supposably” here means it’s conceivable or possible that these croissants could be the best in the United States.
These adverbs are very similar, and over time, “supposedly” has become the default choice. But there’s a nuance to their distinction, and “supposably” deserves to be used for those theoretical claims.
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The Evolution of Measurement and the Words to Describe It
When coming up with new words, it’s important to take a measured approach — and in this case, we mean that quite literally. Here’s how measurement words such as “mile” and “foot” inched their way into the English language.
Various tools and units of measurement have served ancient and modern civilizations alike in helping to build, travel, and develop land. The earliest measurements were often based on materials directly available to people — namely, body parts and nature. But discrepancies arose from there. For instance, one person’s hand might be larger than another’s, so one man’s “12 hands” could be very different from his neighbor’s. As more precise measurements were needed, units of measurement were standardized. While the various amounts changed over time, we still use many of these early words for measurements today.
Using the Body as a Ruler
The human body has always been an easily accessible measuring tool, but over time, some standard measurements have been added to the definitions.
“Foot” has been used since medieval times to measure approximately the length of a man’s foot. It was standardized in the United States in relation to a meter as part of the Metric Act of 1866 and later the Mendenhall Order of 1893, which said that 1 foot equals 0.304801 meters.
“Inch” comes from the Latin uncia, meaning “a twelfth part” — apropos since 1 inch is 1/12 of a foot. At first an inch was roughly equal to the width of a man’s thumb, but in 1324, King Edward II declared it to be equal to three grains of barley lined up end to end.
“Span” is the length of a spread hand measured from the tip of the little finger to the tip of the thumb. The Romans (and later the English) considered this to be roughly 9 inches, while the Greek span was only 7 inches, as they measured the thumb to the forefinger. That pales in comparison to some modern spans — for NBA legend Michael Jordan, a span is equal to 11.375 inches.
“Yard” was initially the width of a man’s waistline. This evolved from the 12th century, when King Henry I determined that a yard was the distance from his nose to his thumb when his arm was outstretched. As for the word “yard,” it’s derived from the Middle English yerd, meaning “stick” or “rod.”
“Handbreadth” is the width of the average hand, generally accepted to be anywhere between 2.5 and 4 inches. Its etymology is quite literal, as it refers to the breadth (or width) of a hand.
“Pace” is the length of one step, while “double pace” is a step with each foot. The word came about in the late 13th century, from the Old French pas, meaning “a step.”
“Cubit” is a body-related unit of measurement that may have originated in ancient Egypt around 3000 BCE. One cubit equals the space between the tip of one’s elbow and the tip of the middle finger, which is generally around 18 inches.
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Measuring From Farm to Table
While the metric system is commonly used in Europe, the British also use a supplemental system of measurement known as the imperial system, which was adopted through the British Weights and Measures Act of 1824. It replaced the Winchester system, which was in use from about the 15th century. Imperial measurements were based on nature and everyday activities and, similar to ancient measurement systems, on the human body. As agriculture expanded in England, larger measurements were needed.
The imperial system established some new terms and units of measurement for area, in particular.
1 thou = 1/1,000 of an inch
1 barleycorn = 1/3 of an inch
1 chain = 66 feet
1 furlong = 10 chains
1 league = 3 miles
1 perch = 272.25 square feet
1 rood = 40 perches
1 acre = 4 roods
1 square mile = 640 acres
While some of the etymological origins for these words are clear (e.g., “thou” being derived from “thousandth”), others require explanation. Take “furlong,” for instance — it comes from the Old English furlang, referring to the length of a furrow (trench) in a 10-acre field. “Barleycorn” comes from the aforementioned anecdote about King Edward II, who declared 1 inch equal to 3 grains of barley. “Perch” is derived from the Old French perche, meaning “unit of linear measurement,” which was equal to 5.5 yards. To get to the imperial unit of a perch, 5.5 yards times 5.5 yards equals 272.25 square feet.
Before the metric system was adopted in most European countries, the mile had origins in many languages. The Old English mil evolved into the Old Norse mila and the English “mile.” The Germanic root milja led to the Dutch mijl, the Middle Dutch mile, the German meile, and the Old High German mila. Latin-influenced languages derived from milia, with French becoming mille, Italian miglio, and Spanish milla.
While the words may have been (almost) the same, the actual distance was not standardized. In ancient Rome, a mile equaled 1,000 double paces — roughly 5,000 Roman feet, which equates to 4,860 modern feet. A medieval English mile measured 6,610 feet and the Old London mile measured 5,000 feet. Under the reign of Queen Elizabeth I, a 1593 statute did a few things for measurements: It established a shorter length for a foot, set the length of a furlong to 660 feet, and set the length of a mile to 8 furlongs, or 5,280 feet, which remains today.
Fun fact: In Middle English, a mile was also a measurement of time of about 20 minutes, which was roughly how long it took to walk a mile.
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When we tell someone to take information “with a grain of salt,” we’re recommending a healthy dose of skepticism — to not accept something at face value, or to have some doubt about a claim’s accuracy. But why salt, and why only a grain of it?
This idiom seems to have been around for so long that tracing its precise roots is complicated. But the leading theory goes all the way back to ancient Rome and Pliny the Elder’s encyclopedic 37-volume Naturalis Historia, published between 77 and 79 CE. Pliny recounts the story of how Roman general Gnaeus Pompeius found a poison antidote among the belongings of Mithridates VI, the ruler of the Hellenistic Kingdom of Pontus, following Mithridates’ defeat in 66 BCE. The instructions for the antidote, as described by Pliny, read as follows: “Take two dried walnuts, two figs, and twenty leaves of rue; pound them all together, with the addition of a grain of salt; if a person takes this mixture fasting, he will be proof against all poisons for that day.”
In Mithridates’ antidote, the grain of salt was quite literal — salt may have been included in the recipe due to the belief it could help neutralize poison, or simply because it would make the antidote more palatable. According to the theory, Pliny’s account of using salt to make poison ineffective became, over the centuries, a fitting metaphor for exercising caution when consuming questionable information. This theory isn’t beyond the realm of possibility, as Pliny’s Naturalis Historia has been studied for centuries — including during the 17th century, when the phrasing “with a grain of salt” reappeared.
According to the Oxford English Dictionary, one of the expression’s first known appearances in written English, in the sense of taking a statement with a certain amount of reserve, comes from John Trapp’sA commentary or exposition upon all the Epistles, which was published in 1647. Written examples of the idiom then became scarce for two centuries, before becoming far more frequent during the late 1800s and through the 20th century, by which time “taking it with a grain of salt” had become commonplace. It has lost Pliny’s literal connotation, yet it still stands as a guard against the poison of misinformation.
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The Rise of the ‘Linguistic Side-Eye’ — How To Convey Sarcasm Over Text
Sarcasm doesn’t always translate well over text — but that hasn’t stopped us from trying. Including emojis and alternating caps, here’s how giving a snarky side-eye is evolving in the digital age.
Sarcasm is a form of verbal irony in which the speaker’s intended meaning is opposite to their literal words — for example, when someone mumbles, “What a great day,” after just missing the bus. It can bring humor, but it can also sting, reminding us just how powerful words can be. The etymology of “sarcasm” offers insight into its nature. It was derived from the Greek sarkazein, meaning “to speak bitterly” or “to sneer” but literally translating to “to strip off the flesh (like dogs).” This origin certainly paints a vivid picture of the power of sarcasm.
In modern times, understanding sarcasm is more difficult than ever due to generational divides and the emergence of new forms of communication technology. But for all its challenges, sarcasm can be a nuanced form of expression used to enhance our daily connections.
Social Impacts of Textual Taunting
Verbal sarcasm plays an integral role in human communication. Our understanding of it begins at a young age — many children can identify sarcasm and use it by the time they reach kindergarten. In one study of telephone conversations in the U.S., the phrase “yeah, right” was used sarcastically almost one-quarter of the times it was said.
This form of sarcasm is relatively easy to pick up on, but when we lose indicators such as vocal tone, facial expressions, and body language, we miss out on context. In three separate studies, psychologists at Chatham University concluded that, in general, we’re bad at detecting and gauging the emotional tone of emails. Most surprisingly, the results were poor regardless of whether a friend or a stranger sent the message. So, the next time you’re about to write a snarky or teasing text, you may want to consider its possible interpretations before hitting “send.”
Another of Chatham University’s studies showed that readers could recognize a sender’s anger but couldn’t gauge its intensity. This nuance is crucial in sarcasm. While the sender might be only slightly annoyed, a reader could misinterpret the message as if the sender were furious. Say you tell a friend you lost their sweater and they text back, “That’s just great, thanks!” You have no way of knowing how angry they really are.
While sarcasm can foster rapport among friends, family, and co-workers who share a common understanding, it can also alienate or confuse those unfamiliar with the tone or context of the conversation. When we dish out the linguistic version of side-eye, we’re hoping the reader grasps this nuance without the need for face-to-face communication.
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Modern Methods To Signal Sarcasm
Sarcasm isn’t just about what you say; it’s how you say it. And despite its potential for misinterpretation, digital sarcasm is a natural result of people communicating in new ways. There are tools to help prevent ambiguity in your sarcastic messages by adding clarity, humor, and a touch of snark. Experts refer to these mechanisms as “textual paralinguistic devices.” Emojis, excessive capitalization, typed laughter, repeated letters, and excessive punctuation are all elements of this modern, nonverbal communication style. Each of these can convey a variety of emotions or tones, including sarcasm.
Punctuation — including ellipses, quotation marks, exclamation points, and asterisks — plays a big role in this phenomenon. If you ask your friend, “How was the interview?” and they respond, “It went great…,” you might infer that it actually went poorly. The use of ellipses in this manner reveals a generational divide. Younger generations use them to convey confusion, passive aggression, sarcasm, or uncertainty, while older generations use them more traditionally to separate thoughts or simulate spoken pauses.
Capitalization and italics work overtime in sarcastic situations, too: “It went GREAT” could be excited or sarcastic, depending on what they say next (context is key with textual sarcasm). Still, alternating capitalization almost always delivers sarcasm, as in, “It went gReAt.” This style, intended to mimic a singsong or mocking tone of voice, is seen across social media posts and memes.
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Emerging Irony: Emojis
The newest tool for displaying sarcasm is the emoji. Used across social media platforms and in text messages, these tiny icons can help clear up ambiguity and convey tone. For instance, adding the Face With Rolling Eyes 🙄 or the Unamused Face 😒 after a cryptic text can clarify the intended meaning: “The interview went great 🙄” or “I’m SO excited for the party 😒.” Similarly, the Eyes 👀 emoji, which often implies that something is foolish, can be used alongside sarcasm, as in, “They SAID they’d finish it on time 👀.”
Some of these digital expressions can be interpreted quite differently, depending on which generation you ask. Psychologists note that older generations tend to use intuitive and straightforward emojis to avoid confusion. In comparison, younger generations often use emojis to express complex emotions and social intentions, including sarcasm. As a result, older generations may feel puzzled (🤔) while trying to interpret these messages.
For instance, even a simple Grinning Face 😀 can indicate pure sarcasm from a Gen Zer. “I failed my final 😀” conveys the same sentiment as “I failed my final 😡.” Older generations might be confused as to why a person would smile over a bad grade, while younger generations see the angry face as too on the nose, opting instead for a sarcastic grin. Similarly, the Upside-Down Face🙃 can add sarcastic humor to a difficult situation: “I ruined my new shoes in the rain 🙃.” Even a well-placed Thumbs Up Sign 👍 can deliver sarcasm.
While sarcasm remains a vital part of language, it’s essential to consider your audience when using it in text, especially when there is a generational gap. Used correctly, however, linguistic sarcasm can be one of the most creative forms of digital communication, rich in nuance and humor, providing a playful way to connect with others.
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Why Is the Etymological Origin of ‘Dog’ a Mystery?
“Dog” is one of the simplest words in English. However, its origins are anything but. For centuries, “hound” ruled the lexicon, leaving linguists puzzled by how “dog” suddenly took over.
In the English language, there are few words simpler than “dog.” Succinct and monosyllabic, it’s a perfectly commonplace word for good boys, pooches, mutts, pups, and man’s best friend. Etymologically, however, “dog” is a mystery. About seven centuries ago, dogs were commonly known as hounds, a word that came from the Old English hund. But by around 1500 CE, “hound” had been largely replaced by the word “dog” — a surprising replacement that seemingly appeared out of the blue, with few earlier forms to even fully explain the word’s existence.
One theory among linguists is that “dog” comes from the Old English word dox, which described a type of color or shade that could have been dark, golden, or yellow, all of which could apply to dogs. Another possible connection comes from the Old English word dugan, meaning “to be good,” “of use,” or “strong” — all of which, again, can be applied to our faithful four-legged friends. Then there’s the Old English docga, a rarely used word that may have been applied to a specific, strong breed of dog, possibly the mastiff.
Adding to the lexicographical confusion is the fact that docga was used more often in early Middle English as a deprecatory or abusive term directed at people, with no dogs involved. This, however, could be one explanation for the rise of the word “dog.” According to linguist Colin Gorrie, it’s possible that “dog” — in its canine sense — began as a term for a particular, despised kind of dog. But then with time, the word “dog” lost its negative implication, was repurposed as a term of affection, and somehow stuck. By the 16th century, it had become commonplace and largely supplanted “hound,” which today is typically used to refer to specific breeds of hunting dogs. Versions of “dog” appeared in many European languages around this same time: dogue in French, dogge in Danish, and Dogge in German.
All in all, there’s a lot of speculation and theorizing involved in the origin story of Fido, with not much hard evidence in the historical record, ensuring that the etymology of the word “dog” remains one of the great mysteries of English. And perhaps that should come as no surprise. After all, the connection between humans and dogs can be traced back some 11,000 years, to the end of the last ice age — a long way back for even the simplest of words.
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Small yet mighty, modal verbs are powerful tools in English grammar. They allow us to convey different degrees of politeness, permission, and possibility.
Modal verbs are like candles on a birthday cake. While the cake is the star of the show, it doesn’t shine quite as bright without the candles. In the same way, modal verbs enhance the meaning of main verbs when they are used together. Modals express ideas of permission, ability, prediction, possibility, or necessity — and we use them every day. The principal modal verbs are: can, could, may, might, must, ought, shall, should, will, and would.
Modals change the tone of the main verb. For example, “should” offers a suggestion, as in, “You should try the chocolate cake.” “Must,” on the other hand, expresses a demand, as in, “You must try the chocolate cake.” Here are a few additional examples:
You may go to the concert. (permission)
She can sing. (ability)
The show will sell out fast. (prediction)
It might rain today. (possibility)
Cyclists must wear a helmet. (necessity)
Modal verbs also form questions and make requests. Consider the example: “May I borrow your phone?” In this sentence, “may” modifies the main verb, “ask,” to express permission. Similarly, in “Could you help me?” the modal “could” politely requests assistance. The modal “can” — as in, “Can I come with you?” — also forms questions, but it’s less formal than “may” and “could.”
Using modal verbs adds nuance, either softening or strengthening your statements. Misusing them may lead to “hedging,” which creates a degree of uncertainty. For instance, saying, “This could be the right solution,” makes your claim less definitive. If you want to convey certainty, consider a different modal, such as “will,” or drop it entirely. Ultimately, the choice of modals depends on the tone you intend to communicate.
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In the editorial world, some mistakes can be as aggravating as a loud chewer or slow walker. Here’s a look at seven of our staff’s top grammar pet peeves.
Even as a professional writer, I’m prone to making grammatical blunders from time to time. Thankfully, I have a talented team of editors working alongside me, each of whom is well equipped to catch those issues when they arise. Many syntax errors come across their desks, but some grind their gears more than others.
We asked our team of editors one simple question: What’s your top grammar pet peeve? The answers came in fast and furious, much like how their red pens quickly mark up a rough first draft. Here are some of the editorial staff’s responses.
Improper Word Order
Roses come in many colors, including red, yellow, and pink. If you’re trying to make this point, it’d be appropriate to say, “Not all roses are red.” But many people are prone to saying something to the effect of, “All roses are not red,” which is a major no-no for Meghan Neal, deputy managing editor. Mistakes along these lines make Meghan’s “brain hurt,” in her own words, because mixing up this word order “technically means that no roses are red!”
Incorrect Hyphens
Hyphens are a fantastic tool when used correctly. But whenever a hyphen is included when it shouldn’t be, or omitted when needed, it’s a major nuisance. Just ask Brooke Robinson, associate editor of Interesting Facts. She finds it particularly annoying when hyphens are left out of compound modifiers — two words combined to modify a noun (e.g., “well-known” and “brown-eyed”). But Robinson herself says that proper hyphen use isn’t always easy to understand, stating, “I’ve only gotten it into my head relatively recently that you don’t hyphenate compound modifiers when the first word ends in ‘-ly.’” To clarify this rule, that “-ly” means it’s an adverb, and you don’t hyphenate when one of the modifiers is an adverb.
Unnecessary Quotation Marks
Word Smarts senior editor Jennifer Freeman has a self-professed “eagle eye” when it comes to unnecessary quotation marks. This issue is particularly prevalent in the world of restaurant menus, making it clear that many eateries could use an in-house editor. Just imagine perusing a menu when you come across a “famous” prime rib or “Aunt Sally’s” classic cheesecake recipe. Odds are that nobody ever said these words as a notable quote, thus making the quotation marks unnecessary.
Lack of Hyphens
Have you ever seen one of those giant storage facilities on the side of the road as you’re driving down the highway? The next time you do, take a look at the sign, and you’ll notice that the words “Self Storage” aren’t hyphenated, even though they should be. This pet peeve comes to us from Michael Nordine, senior writer and editor of Movie Brief. He laments the lack of a hyphen and wishes the industry as a whole would update its signage.
Dangling Modifiers
Without question, dangling modifiers are the single most bothersome grammar mistake for senior managing editor Allie Takeda. A dangling modifier is any word or phrase that modifies another word that’s not clearly stated in the same sentence. For example, you might see the sentence, “After eating dinner, the car wouldn’t start.” But the proper subject is missing, so it reads like the car was the one eating dinner. “After eating dinner” is dangling because the thing it’s modifying, a person, is nowhere to be found. It’d be correct to write, “After eating dinner, he couldn’t get the car to start.”
Tautologies
Kelsey Morrison, editor of House Outlook, describes tautologies as her “biggest grammar ick.” These are redundant phrases that use different words to convey the same information twice — think “added bonus” or “close proximity,” as well as acronyms such as “ATM machine” and “PIN number.” You’ll find them often in the culinary world, where borrowed words from other languages created tautologies such as “chai tea” and “queso cheese.” Morrison says “eliminating tautologies from your writing will make it clearer and more concise,” so listen to these wise words.
False Ranges
Have you ever said something to the effect of, “I collect everything from stamps to water bottles”? If so, you’re guilty of creating a false range, a concept brought to our attention by chief brand officer Mike Newman. He says a college professor taught him that in order to have a range, there needs to be an understandable spectrum. “Stamps to water bottles” is a nonexistent, unmeasurable range. That being said, Newman concedes that many publications are OK with false ranges, as much as it bothers him personally.
Our final grammar pet peeve comes from Peter Vanden Bos, senior editor of Daily Passport. He touches upon a common mistake — “less” vs. “fewer.” According to Merriam-Webster, use “fewer” when a number of things can be counted, such as “fewer choices” or “fewer problems.” “Less” is used when it’s a general amount, or it can be measured, as in “less time” or “less effort.” However, this isn’t a hard-and-fast rule, and there are occasions where “less” breaks from the norm, such as when you’re counting words in an essay that needs to be “250 words or less.”
Do you have a top grammar pet peeve of your own? Reach out to us and let us know, and your response may even be included in a future article.
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Listening to Gen Zers communicate can feel like you’re listening to an alien language at times. Slang terms such as “rizz” and “skibidi” don’t quite make obvious sense at first glance, leaving folks that come from older generations wondering about their meanings. Then there’s the word “mid,” which is used by people of all ages in various contexts (e.g., “mid-Atlantic” and “midair.” But to Generation Z, it means something quite specific.
“Mid” is essentially a shortened form of the term “middle,” meaning “neither very good nor very bad.” It’s commonly used to review the quality of something, and it’s a suitable alternative to ratings of “so-so” or “meh.” For example, if you saw a mediocre film, you might review it as “mid” on your Letterboxd account. (If you haven’t heard of Letterboxd, ask a Gen Z-er.) Or if you try a new restaurant and are left underwhelmed by the meal, you may call it “mid” on your Yelp review.
We’ve noticed some folks swapping “mid” for “whatever,” but we’re here to tell you that the terms aren’t perfect synonyms for one another. “Mid” means you have a firm belief that something is unremarkable, while “whatever” expresses true indifference. Try to avoid using these words interchangeably. Many Gen Zers continue to use the word “whatever,” much like earlier generations, though it’s sometimes shortened to just “wtv” over text.
In addition to calling something “mid,” you can also say that something is “midder” than another concept or the “middest” of them all. In all these cases, “mid” is never intended as a compliment and is often accompanied by a tinge of disappointment.
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Dig out your old grammar workbooks. Got them? OK, now throw them away. That’s right — we’re giving you permission to break some of those old-school rules. The English language is constantly evolving, meaning rules that were once drilled into your head by schoolteachers are now more like guidelines, and sometimes it’s OK to ignore them. Here are four grammar rules you no longer need to stress about. (We’re breaking one of the rules right away.)
1. Don’t end sentences with prepositions
“You don’t know with whom you’re messing!” is probably not something you’d hear during a heated argument — it doesn’t quite roll off the tongue. Chopping and restructuring prepositional phrases was probably one of those lessons touted by your seventh grade English teacher, but the need for such a rule is questionable at best. Avoiding a preposition at the end makes things wordy, doesn’t do anything to further clarify the meaning, and can make the speaker sound awkwardly pretentious.
Merriam-Webster argues in favor of ditching this rule, too, claiming that it was made up by grammarians trying to force English to fit Latin rules. Seventeenth-century linguists argued that because a preposition can’t be stranded in Latin, the same should be true for English. But Latin departs from English in myriad ways, the least of which is the idea of stranded prepositions. By the 20th century, almost all style and usage guides had given up any argument against the terminal preposition, so there’s no reason to twist your wording into awkward constructions.
The one exception to this rule abandonment concerns unnecessary tag-ons of prepositions. This means adding prepositions at the end of a sentence when you don’t need to. For example, “Where is this bus going to?” can easily be streamlined to “Where is this bus going?” Fewer words make a more concise sentence.
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2. Don’t split infinitives
“To go boldly where no one has gone before” just doesn’t have the same ring as Captain Picard’s tagline “To boldly go where no one has gone before.” While it is true that the adverb “boldly” is modifying the infinitive “to go,” placing the adverb before the verb gives emphasis to the special intent of the verb before the listener hears it. Trekkies know that something bold is about to happen.
The rule of not splitting infinitives is yet another carryover from Latin. Latin infinitives are a single word, indicating to some linguists that English infinitives should be treated as a single unit. But again, English is not Latin. Split infinitives have been used by some of English’s best writers, including Benjamin Franklin, William Wordsworth, Samuel Johnson, and George Bernard Shaw, so why not you?
We’ll add a caveat here that we’re not recommending all infinitives should be split; we’re simply saying that it’s not a grammatical crime. Leaving the infinitive intact is preferable in most cases, especially in formal or academic writing. But in cases of creative writing, or when you’re looking for a certain style or emphasis, don’t let the rule hold you back.
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3. Never begin a sentence with a conjunction
“But since writing is communication, clarity can only be a virtue. And although there is no substitute for merit in writing, clarity comes closest to being one,” William Strunk Jr. & E. B. White wrote inThe Elements of Style.
Beginning a sentence with a conjunction has long been considered a grave grammatical sin. But doing so helps to keep thoughts separated and will save you from a confusing cacophony of commas, not to mention allow your reader to breathe between thoughts. Conjunctions, sometimes recognized by using the mnemonic FANBOYS (“for,” “and,” “nor,” “but,” “or,” “yet,” and “so”) but more accurately by Merriam-Webster’s mnemonic WWWFLASHYBONNBAN (“whether,” “well,” “why,” “for,” “likewise,” “and,” “so,” “however,” “yet,” “but,” “or,” “nor,” “now,” “because,” “also,” and “nevertheless”), have been used to start sentences for over a millennium.
In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.
As further evidence, the AP Stylebook and the Chicago Manual of Style both permit the use of conjunctions to start sentences.
“Hopefully, the taxi will arrive soon.” “Hopefully” has been unfairly singled out by grammarians as the adverb you should never use to start a sentence. According to the rule, the aforementioned example sentence means that the taxi is acting in a hopeful manner, something that is impossible for an inanimate object. Instead, placing the speaker as the hopeful one would turn it into “It is hoped that the taxi will arrive soon” or “I am hopeful that the taxi will arrive soon.”
But those wordings are unnecessarily awkward and formal, and English can bend for the sake of conversation. Besides, rarely do grammarians take issue with other adverbs such as “clearly,” “unbelievably,” or “fortunately” modifying the following sentence.
Hopefully, you’re able to concisely write to someone without worrying about unnecessary grammar rules. But if they can’t appreciate your interpretation of the English language, find new friends to share your writing with.
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The Turkish language has a clever way of keeping the rumor mill running smoothly. “Gossip tense” is a unique way to communicate hearsay without misleading the listener. Here’s how it works.
Gossip has a bad reputation. The definition of gossip is “to retail facts, rumors, or behind-the-scenes information about other persons,” but the practice is known for spreading unfounded rumors and secrets about people who aren’t able to refute them. However, practically everyone is guilty of sharing a tidbit of information or relaying some insider knowledge. As the famed journalist Barbara Walters once said, “Show me someone who never gossips, and I will show you someone who is not interested in people.” It feels good to gossip sometimes, and the Turkish language has an interesting feature that supports sharing information. It’s known informally as the “gossip tense.”
This grammatical form highlights when information is secondhand, a quality that would be useful in all languages. In Turkish, using this tense isn’t just a stylistic choice; it’s expected if you’re sharing unverified information. It helps the listener distinguish between established facts and mere hearsay, so failing to use the correct tense can lead to misunderstanding.
Despite its catchy nickname, the term “gossip tense” isn’t technically accurate. This form is actually an add-on suffix that linguists refer to as an “evidential.” In Turkish, this is indicated by a set of suffixes: -mış, -miş, -muş, or -müş. The choice of suffix depends not on how juicy the gossip is, but on the vowel harmony of the word being modified. In Turkish, the vowels in a word and in its suffixes must “match” their sound so that everything flows smoothly.
Depending on the context, these suffixes express uncertainty in various ways, closely meaning something like “I heard that,” “apparently,” “it seems,” or “they say.” Here’s how the suffix “-mış” can transform the verb “almak” (“to buy”) into gossip:
Almak: Verb meaning “she/he bought”
Almış: The verb is transformed into “I heard that she/he bought” by adding the suffix –mış
Example sentence: O pahalı çantayı sonunda almış. / “I heard that she/he finally bought that expensive purse.”
So, while “gossip tense” doesn’t necessarily indicate a scandal, it is a valuable tool in the Turkish language that keeps everyone — even gossips — a little bit more honest.
Featured image credit: RuslanDashinsky/ iStock
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