Like Anon, I defer to Sam Morningstar. And Sam has another outstanding response to this question, buried in this comment thread:

https://www.quora.com/Is-it-poss…

It even has maps!

Exec summary:

• Name recognition
• Perception Cherokee were more “civilised” than other Indian tribes
• Longstanding contact with whites
• Felicitous accidents of skin pigmentation 🙁
• Larger area of Cherokee land claims, extending beyond where Cherokee lived; so lots of white people had nominal contact with Cherokee when they moved in

Depends on your theology, but mostly, no.

The female personification of Wisdom in the Sapiential Books in and out of the Hebrew Scriptural canon (including Proverbs) is as close as Judaism got to a female aspect of divinity. It’s not very close.

Spirit in Hebrew is the feminine noun ruach, and if Hebrew had any role in the development of the Christian notion of the Trinity, you could have seen something like a feminine aspect of divinity in Christianity. But spirit is neuter in Greek (pneuma ) and masculine in Latin (spiritus), so that’s not the direction the Trinity went. The Orthodox/Catholic understanding of a female being in Heaven ended up being the Virgin Mary instead, as intercessor rather than Godhead.

So, standard flavours of Judaism and Christianity have not gone there. I see from the first link I googled (The Feminine Aspect of the Godhead) that there were Gnostic trends to associate the Holy Spirit with femininity, and that the Gospel of the Hebrews referred to the Holy Spirit as a mother. So some theologians have thought so, but most have not.

Nope. Pinyin <q> is not IPA /q/, it’s /tɕʰ/ , an aspirated Voiceless alveolo-palatal affricate. See https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pi….

Quite a variety of answers here.

I’ve gotten that from Americans, usually followed by some bizarre mélange of Bostonian English and Dick Van Dyke from Mary Poppins as they tried to impersonate me.

As we say here: “Yeah… no.”

Slightly miffed, but more at the other’s unfamiliarity with Australians than at the comparison. Normally.

In fact, my good friend George Baloglou, Greek who worked for a long time in America, used the confusion in a way I found flatteringly insightful. He was describing me to a third party in Greece, and he said:

“Picture a guy who looks like a typical Greek greengrocer. And is culturally British.”

(The author, 1993)

Not A2A.

Michael Masiello, who is awesome in every way, is right in the question he answered, but wrong in the question I think OP intended.

Linguistics and literature are indeed quite different fields of study. In fact, they have become more separate. Linguistics was invented to help literature study (rhetoric); and literature scholars draw on the toolset of linguistics to understand the aesthetics of the texts they are studying.

On the other hand, linguistics by its nature cannot prioritise one kind of text over all the others, or make value judgements over what is beautiful in language. (Anything I know about Michael’s field, I know from my own reading, before I got into linguistics.) If anything, linguistics sets itself up in opposition to the lay judgements of language that are built on social rather than structural notions; and it prioritises the spoken rather than the written.

As a result, linguistics has ignored social and cultural structures (until very recently), and sociolinguistics is a field we owe to sociologists, not linguistics. Historical linguistics of literary languages is now a niche field; and linguistics ignore at the tools of literature, even when they really shouldn’t. (Nick Nicholas’ answer to What are the differences between linguistics and philology?)

No, for example, you can’t use the presence of infinitives in the Mass of the Beardless Man to prove that infinitives survived in Greek in 1500. The Mass of the Beardless Man is a parody of the Greek liturgy, which was written a thousand years before. As the tools of literature will tell you, that means it will use the older linguistic structures of the text it is based on.

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So much for the walls of separation between linguistics and literature as disciplines. But OP has spoken of “English Linguistic” and courses. This implies not only that they are not a native speaker of English, but also that they are asking about the teaching of English linguistics and literature in universities outside of the Anglosphere.

When the Europhobic linguists of the University of Melbourne made it clear that they would never hire a linguist working on Greek (enjoy your funding cuts, guys), I moved upstairs to work as IT support and research assistant in the School of [European] Languages. A BA in French would be a course in French Language and Literature. As far as I know, Australian linguistics don’t speak of French Linguistics and Literature; and in general, linguists in language departments are (a) lonely, (b) mostly sociolinguists. But I know that that wording is used in Greece, e.g. English Linguistics and Literature.

So you can offer language and literature, or even linguistics and literature, in the same course.

What does that mean?

Well, (a) the linguists are still lonely. They don’t have much overlap or common interest with the literature scholars. In fact, I was research assistant to the one non-sociolinguistics linguist upstairs, and friendly with his colleagues; and there was a lot of mutual incomprehension.

(b) The course will consist of language modules, literature modules, culture modules, and linguistics modules, in different proportions depending on the country and current fashions. (The literature lecturers 50 years ago got into French because they want to know about Molière. Most of their students, lecturing now, were more interested in postcolonial literature. And their students may just be interested in aerospace engineering.)

Those different modules will be offered by different specialists, and will not be informed by each other. So intellectually, they will be different. But it makes no sense for the students or the university to split them into separate courses: as a student of French, you should know both the language and the culture — and if you’re more intellectually driven, that means you should know both the linguistics and the literature.

In my Antipodean bonhomie, I have asked the no-nonsense Sophia de Tricht if I can call her Soph. Starting at https://www.quora.com/How-do-bel…

The exchange went swimmingly:

—The last person who called me Soph won’t be playing the violin anytime… well, ever

—So when I sold my violin and took up the mandolin a couple of years ago, it was a preemptive strike!

—I think a mandolin would also dissolve in one of the several 55 gallon drums of acid that guy is currently a greasy film on the top of

And capped off, of course, with:

https://www.quora.com/How-do-bel…

You’ve heard of Sic Semper Tyrannis, right?

Well, this is “Sic Semper To Anyone who doesn’t call me Sophia”.

I trust the heels + sailor cap ensemble adequately captures your whole I Mean Business vibe, does it not?

Lazily: because Stravinsky wrote it at the time he was writing his Neoclassical stuff.

The Symphony of Psalms does not have the obvious shoutouts to the Baroque or Classical period that Pulcinella or Oedipus Rex does, and in parts it sounds closer to his earlier Russian period. It certainly ostinatoes like early Stravinsky. Good catch, Anon.

(Could this be the first intelligent Anon question I’ve seen?)

But it’s certainly not as flashy as early Stravinsky: it’s somber and reserved (apart from the berserk horn in the final movement, which a friend said was a shout out to Richard Strauss), and it hews close to older understandings of liturgical music. It doesn’t fit nicely in the neoclassical Stravinsky opus, but it still fits better there than with what he was doing in 1910.

You know, I don’t know. Luckily, Wikipedia does: Labours of Hercules.

Some ancients tells us that Peisander of Camirus wrote the official account of the labours as an epic. Some other ancients (via Clement of Alexandria) tells us that Peisander got his material from some other guy called Pisinus of Lindus.

Neither of these particularly matter to you, because neither guy’s work has been preserved. The writeup we do have of the labours is the Bibliotheca of Pseudo-Apollodorus, a first/second century AD compendium, which is our go-to source for a lot of the fine print of Greek mythology.

Many are Greek, though they’re old and obscure enough to be headscratchers. If they aren’t Greek, they certainly aren’t going to be Hebrew or Persian (Greeks were in Greece a long time before they were anywhere near either); the origins of non-Greek names are more readily sought in old Anatolian and Middle Eastern civilisations, like Ugaritic or Lycian.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ze…

Zeus is the Greek continuation of *Di̯ēus, the name of the Proto-Indo-European god of the daytime sky, also called *Dyeus ph2tēr (“Sky Father”). The god is known under this name in the Rigveda (Vedic Sanskrit Dyaus/Dyaus Pita), Latin (compare Jupiter, from Iuppiter, deriving from the Proto-Indo-European vocative *dyeu-ph2tēr), deriving from the root *dyeu- (“to shine”, and in its many derivatives, “sky, heaven, god”). Zeus is the only deity in the Olympic pantheon whose name has such a transparent Indo-European etymology.

That wikipedia artcle quotes from Burkert’s Greek Religion, so let’s see what etymologies he mentions as likeliest:

Greek:

• Hera: hōra “timely”? “ready to get married”?
• Poseidon: Lord of… the Earth? of the Waterways? Source of Waters?
• Athena: Athens may have come first, -ene is a location suffix.
• Apollo: God of the Apellai initiation ritual
• Artemis: probably from Asia Minor; proposals include “healthy”, “butcher”, and “Bear Goddess”
• Ares: Chaos of War.
• Hermes: from herma, a cairn of stones (with phallic cultic connotations)
• Demeter: not in love with the traditional etymology “Earth Mother”, but somehow it connects to cereals.

Not-Greek:

• Aphrodite: Proceeding from the foam? Adaptation of Phoenecian Ashtoreth? Phoenecian “dove” or “fertile”?
• Dionysius: Zeus’ Something, but Zeus’ Son is guesswork, and the second bit may be non-Hellenic. The other names are certainly non-Hellenic: Bacchus is Lydian, Thyrsus Ugaritic.
• Hephaestus: Not Greek, and there has been speculation of Etruscan (via Lemnos) and Lycian origins.

Originally Answered:

Is creole and patois the same thing? Why or why not?

In a prescientific sense, of course. Patois is what French people called the corrupted gibberish that white people spoke in France, and Creole is what French people called the corrupted gibberish that brown people spoke in the colonies.

Thank god for science, right?

A creole in linguistics is the development of a pidgin language, as it becomes learned by children, and starts acquiring more of the irregularities and patterns of normal languages. Creoles often resulted when French colonials spoke broken French to dispossessed colonised peoples, and those peoples turned that broken French into their own language. Haitian Creole for example. So a creole is a particular stage in the development of new languages.

You’ll occasionally hear the suspicion that English was at one stage a creole, though the breakdown of inflection when the Vikings came to town is not quite the same scenario.

Dialects are regional variants of languages. You might occasionally hear linguists use patois as a more regionally restricted subclass of dialect. But patois has a snooty derogatory connotation to it, and dialectologists tend not to think of their objects of study in that way; so you won’t see them use it.