Why are the 1st, 2nd and 3rd declensions called this way?

The Ancient Greek (Roman-era) grammarians, Dionysius Thrax and Aelius Herodianus, were giants that we are in debt of for a lot of our understanding of grammar, and traditional grammar comes from them.

But they did not quite get declensions. They certainly did not get the number of declensions in Greek down to something manageable. We owe a tractable number of declensions to the grammarians of Latin, who got it down to five. The Greek declensions 1, 2, 3 corresponding to the Latin declensions 1, 2, 3, and were arrived at in the Renaissance, when Greek grammar was brought in line with Latin analysis.

From Thematic list, it looks like the notion of five declensions in Latin is original to Priscian, around 500 AD. I’ve browsed through the text of his Institutions of Grammar, and I don’t see anything like an explicit statement of quinque sunt declinationes linguae latinae [there are five declensions in Latin]; he mentions the first declension in passing in his chapter on letters, and as soon as he gets to the noun chapter, he immediately starts mentioning first or fifth declensions without explaining what they are.

That hints that the notion was already familiar, and there are four centuries between Quintilian, the previous major Latin grammarian, and Priscian. (There’s also Aelius Donatus the previous century from Priscian, but he doesn’t mention declensions in his work at all.)

No justification for the ordering is apparent from Priscian, and the ordering certainly has nothing to do with historical reconstruction and Proto-Indo-European; I can guess the motivation for the ordering though. 1st, 2nd, 3rd are very common, 4th and 5th much less so. 1st ends in –a and 2nd in -u(s/m), so alphabetic sorting might be at work; 1st and 2nd are quite regular compared to 3rd, so they could have gone first as easier to learn.

Does the use of line breaks in text incentivize (critical) thinking?

I think you could argue the reverse, if anything, though I still think that linebreaks are preferable anyway.

Let me take an historical approach to this.

We use space and punctuation and typography to chop up written discourse into digestible units. Once we have these units, we use our thinking to build up a model of how those units fit into a rhetorical structure: what is a major point and what is minor, what is a supporting point, what is incidental, and so on.

Those devices are specific to written discourse. Spoken discourse has its own devices—including volume, gestures, eye contact, and pitch—to make the structure of what is spoken clear; written discourse did not have access to those devices, and has had to put up its own equivalents.

In antiquity, those devices of writing were rare to non-existent. There were no italics in Ancient Greek; everything was in all caps; punctuation was invented late and used grudgingly. Several ancient scripts used mechanisms to break up words; Greek and Latin were not originally among them. Recall the new-fangled fancy grammatical terminology that Euripides uses in Aristophanes’ Frogs, including sentences. To his old adversary Aeschylus, there are only epea, utterances, which can be as short as a word or as long as the Iliad.

All this made reading laborious. And that was OK: the number of literate people was small enough that reading could be an elite skill, and the culture of literate people was homogeneous enough that they could fill in the blanks (actually, the non-blanks).

The Alexandrians came up with punctuation and paragraphs, though there wasn’t much spacing involved originally. The notion of the punctuated sentence and phrase, and the spaced word, were stable in mediaeval times; the paragraph reinvented via the pilcrow (¶). By the mid-Renaissance, the tools we now use to chop up written discourse into digestible units were all in place.

Those tools made reading less laborious; and with the advent of first printing and then universal education, reading became more widespread.

But stylistic convention still favoured the long, periodic sentence, by emulation of the Classics. Partly this emulated a time when an elite could take the time to pore over the long sentence, and work out how its bits fit together. Partly this emulated languages which had mechanisms for chaining sentences together, which made much more sense in Greek and Latin than they did in French and English. But the sentences are at least supposed to be periodic—meaning, with identifiable subunits and structure that fits together. If you just take the time to concentrate on the connectives, as both the links between the phrases, and (too often) the separators between the phrases, in the absence of generous commas.

If we fast forward from the 1700s to the 2100s, we are now in a time when long periodic sentences are avoided, in favour of short choppy sentences; when long paragraphs are avoided, and indeed criticised as unreadable, particularly online; and when the internal structure of paragraphs and sentences is often made blatant through dot points and indentation.

This is partly fashion, driven I suppose by Hemingway and modernism. Partly, it is that we have to read more than ever before, we have to read stuff we don’t read for fun and leisure, we need to skim, and we don’t have the patience to wrestle with long Dickensian sentences.

So. In the olden days, there was less white space. People had to look carefully for connectives and punctuation, be conversant with rhetorical strategies, and have a decent amount of cultural preparation, in order to make sense of the structure of written text.

Nowadays, there is a lot more white space. The building blocks of the rhetorical structure are much more obvious; conversely, there is much less signalling of what the connection is between the building blocks, via connectives.

I think this means that the vertical space gives people room to think about what the connections are—and they need the room to think, because some of the other structural cues are no longer used or presupposed. I also think this still causes less of a strain than the olden day long sentences and paragraphs did.

How do I fathom the 3rd declension?

And I weigh in too, though my answer is not really different to Desmond’s.

The way to fathom the 3rd declension is via proto-Greek. That’s what the grammars do, whether it’s the most useful thing to do or not.

Focus on the recurring endings: -(ς) -ος -ι -α -Ø, -ες -ων -σι -ας -ες (or -α -ων -σι -α -α in the neuter).

Focus on the genitive singular, because that always clues you in to how the noun’s declension actually works. ἅρπαγ-ος > *ἅρπαγ-ς > ἅρπαξ.

Don’t focus on each distinct pattern of the third declension. For passive recognition, it isn’t worth it.

Resign yourself to the fact that the nominative singular will be strange.

Treat the dirty vowel stems (3, 4, 5 in your list) as separate declensions. You can, with enough concentration, discern the recurring endings there too; but you might as well not; there’s been too much intervening sound change to make it worthwhile.

Do not even bother learning the highly irregular patterns, like ναῦς and ἀνήρ and γυνή. They’ll be frequent enough that you’ll pick them up from context anyway.

How is Keneh Bosem translated in different versions of the Greek old testament?

So the passage in question is Exodus 30:23.

The place to look up the other Ancient Greek translations of the Hebrew Scriptures (Aquila, Symmachus, Theodotion) is the Hexapla, a collation by the Christian theologian Origen.

A modern edition has been coming for over a decade, so the edition to consult is still Origen Hexapla : Field, Frederick from 1875.

The Septuagint translates the verse as:

Do thou also take sweet herbs, the flower of choice myrrh five hundred shekels, and the half of this two hundred and fifty shekels of sweet-smelling cinnamon, and two hundred and fifty shekels of sweet-smelling calamus,

(Exodus 30:23 – LXX – Do thou also take sweet herbs, the flower of ch…)

The sweet-smelling calamus is the herb kaneh bosem whose translation is contentious.

The Hebrew word בשמים (bosemim, right?) has the note: Οʹ. ἡδύσματα. Ἀ. ἀρώματα. That is, the Septuagint translates it as “sweeteners” and Aquila as “perfumes”. But that’s the word rendered above as “sweet herbs”. The next divergence noted in the Hexapla is the reference to cassia in the next verse. Kassia is noted as an alternate reading; the Septuagint’s reading is ἴρεως, refering to the genus Iris (plant).

Because Origen did not supply an alternate translation for Kaneh bosem, it is likely that the other three translations rendered it the same way as the Septuagint.

The other translations, btw, were often more accurate than the Septuagint, but they were also later. If the knowledge of what the kaneh bosem was, whether calamus or cannabis or chamomile, had already been lost, then the other translations could well have just copied the Septuagint.

Is the language of engineers in Prometheus based on PIE?

Yes. See the discussion at Proto-Indo-European in Prometheus?, with participation by Dr Anil Biltoo, the linguist commissioned to develop the language for the movie. David practices his Engineer-speak through reciting Schleicher’s fable, the favourite party piece of Indo-Europeanists.

Why yes, Anil does get a cameo in the movie:

As Anil says,

The language of the engineers in Prometheus is not ‘pure PIE’ (whatever that’s supposed to be, given that all reconstructions are hypothetical). A very pertinent comment was posted by NW, on June 8th, addressing the use of PIE by non-linguists. Any dialogue intended to be learned by actors has to be capable of being pronounced, which does not appear to be a quality discernible in reconstructions proposed thus far. If the dialogue in Prometheus appears to contain words that have an immediate resonance with languages known to the viewer, that is all to the good since it is intended (The use of Proto-Afroasiatic would likely have yielded no such result). The emphasis was less on authenticity with respect to what is generally agreed upon vis-a-vis PIE phonology and roots, and more on ease of articulation, sonorousness and the suggestion of a possible connection of ‘Engineer’ with terrestrial speech.

EDIT: The Answer Details come from a deleted scene: The Mysteries Behind The Prometheus Deleted Scenes – A Discussion With Dr. Biltoo. See also Prometheus Bluray Easter Egg – Language of the Gods.

The malefaction of initials

Some of you may know that Jeremy Markeith Thompson got name-blocked last month, for failing to expand his middle initial in Jeremy M. Thompson.

Some of you may know that L.D. Ulrich was recently edit-blocked.

I have only ever seen him with initials.

The following sequence of edits appears in his log:

User status changed by Quora Moderation.

Quora Moderation blocked Quora User from editing on Quora

Comment: Blocked from editing due to an unverified name. For more information, see Quora’s policy on using real names: https://www.quora.com/Do-I-have-….

#263557002 · Thank · Report · 26 Jun 2017 2:52 PM

User status changed by Quora Moderation.

Quora Moderation restored Quora User’s privileges on Quora

Comment: Unblocked from editing pending review of name change.

#264415158 · Thank · Report · 28 Jun 2017 4:14 PM

Quora User

User name edited.

LD > L.D. Ulrich

#264415159 · Thank · Report · 28 Jun 2017 4:14 PM

User status changed by Quora Moderation.

Quora Moderation blocked Quora User from editing on Quora

Comment: Blocked from editing due to an unverified name. For more information, see Quora’s policy on using real names: https://www.quora.com/Do-I-have-….

#264418496 · Thank · Report · 28 Jun 2017 4:24 PM

If Quora wants initials spelled out, it should spell out its Real Name Policy: Quora’s answer to Do I have to use my real name on Quora? What is Quora’s ‘real names’ policy?“On Quora, you are required to use your real, full name for your account.” If first initials are not acceptable ever, and that is what “full name” means, then a lot of users are already in trouble; and Quora should be using some of its vaunted bot resourcing on initial signup of users, rather than a year in to their posting activity.

If the edit name facility has with the acute risk of instablocking, then some sort of warning should be accompanying the button, rather than reactive bans.

I’ve quoted elsewhere this Greek proverb, with regard to my reactions to Quora shenanigans:

“I’m trying to be a saint. And they won’t let me!”

Can we exclude that in the not so distant past Tsakonian was familiar to those from North of Sparta to South East of the Arcadian capital Tripoli?

We can’t exclude it.

Tsakonian is an absurdly archaic variant of Greek, and that speaks to long-term isolation from the rest of the Greek speaking world. It would have to be longer-term isolation than Old Athenian, the cover-term for the enclaves of Greek (Athens, Aegina, Megara, Kyme) blocked off from the rest of the Greek-speaking world by the arrival of ethnic Albanians after the Black Death.

Modern day Tsakonia (the blue bit in this 1890 map) has a coastal bit in Leonidio, but it was cut off from the north through mountains, and the coastal approach required porters to wade out and carry luggage in 1895. You’ll notice that the surrounding areas are purple, not pink (Arvanitika-speaking); the ethnic Albanians were not the reason for Tsakonian being isolated.

We have a few pieces of evidence about Tsakonia formerly. We know from Mazaris’ Journey to Hades, written in the 1400s, that some people in the Peloponnese spoke unintelligible gibberish; earlier on scholars thought that was a reference to Tsakonian, but the surmise is now that it refers to Mani, a (less) archaic variant of Greek spoken in the Middle Finger of the Peloponnese.

We know that when Evliya Çelebi recorded some words of Tsakonian in the 1660s, he was in an area far to the south of Modern Tsakonia. (I don’t remember, but I think it was near Monemvasia.)

And we know that Vatika, at the bottom of the right southern finger of the Peloponnese and near Monemvasia, has almost the same name as Vatka (in Turkish, Misakça), where there was a Tsakonian colony up until 1915. (They were deported to the interior of Anatolia because of WWI, before the 1922 population exchanges.)

What would a native Greek speaker differ in if they spoke French, dialect, tone, or accent? Would there be a difference?

… You know, I’ll take the challenge.

I have a PhD in linguistics and I know the IPA backwards, but my accent in foreign languages is horridly Greek.

From Nick Nicholas’ answer to What does Genesis 1:1-3 sound like in your language? : Vocaroo | Voice message

Don’t assume that polyglots always have a great accent. I know a polyglot prodigy who has recently showed up on this site, so I won’t name him: he knows a dozen languages, and he sounds Bulgarian in all of them. You have to be immersed in a country for a fair while to pick up the accent with some fluency.

As both other answerers have pointed out, there would be shibboleths. The uvular [ʀ] would end up a velar [ɣ] or a trilled [r] (the former is likelier unless the speaker had never heard anyone speak French). The rounded front vowels, the [œ, y], would be way too close to /e/ and /i/. They’d have trouble with the [ɥ]. (Doesn’t everyone?) I think they’d do a passable [ʃ, ʒ], but their nasals would be hit and miss. And of course, they’d have the rat-tat-tat of a language without vowel length distinctions.

You know how Spanish speakers speak French? It’d be close to that.

Answered 2017-07-06 · Upvoted by

Steve Rapaport, Linguistics PhD candidate at Edinburgh. Has lived in USA, Sweden, Italy, UK.

Did Da Vinci say something like, “If you ever tried flying, you will look at the sky when walking and think that is your home”?

Googling finds:

When once you have tasted flight, you will forever walk the earth with your eyes turned skyward, for there you have been, and there you will always long to return

Refuted in Wikiquote Talk:

Talk:Leonardo da Vinci

So to summarize what we know, based largely on the research of KHirsch above, the quote was first used in print (and misattributed to Leonardo da Vinci) in a science fiction story published in 1975, The Storms of Windhaven. One of the authors, Lisa Tuttle, remembers that the quote was suggested by science fiction writer Ben Bova, who says he believes he got the quote from a TV documentary narrated by Fredric March, presumably I, Leonardo da Vinci, written by John H. Secondari for the series Saga of Western Man, which aired on 23 February 1965. If this is correct, then the quote may have been written by Secondari for the TV documentary, and Ben Bova incorrectly assumed that he was quoting da Vinci. Accordingly, the probable author is John Hermes Secondari (1919-1975), American author and television producer.

Followup:

However, I should mention that a 1976 edition of Contact Quarterly, a biannual journal of contemporary dance, improvisation and performance, cites Leonardo da Vinci’s Codex on the Flight of Birds as the source of the quotation. I don’t know where to get a translation of that Codex, but I imagine one must be available somewhere, so it can be checked. – Embram 16:15, 28 January 2012 (UTC)

  • Having searched the ‘Codex on the Flight of Birds’ for the quote, nothing can be found that even closely resembles it. 2:22, 9 October 2013

How did you feel when you found out that Quora banned a person that you not only liked, but followed?

On strike in support of Jay Liu by Nick Nicholas on Opɯdʒɯlɯklɑr In Exile

How did I feel? Well, there’s a reason I run The Insurgency now.

It wasn’t about whether the sanction was fair or not. In fact, a former community admin told me, months later, “do you want to know why Jimmy was actually banned?” And I said no I don’t.

It was the impersonality of it. The surprise of it. The red banner landing with a thud, when I checked his profile to see why he hadn’t been posting lately. As Robert Todd put it at the time, “Do people often disappear from here as if the Black Maria picked them up in the middle of the night?” That was the first time I discovered that yes, they did.

Now, after 8 months of running Necrologue, I’m numb to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if my nearest and dearest here were whisked away by the Black Maria; enough of them have, after all. Pegah. De Guzman. Dockx. Habib’s and Masiello’s time will come; Welch has only avoided it by well-timed swerving.

I console myself with shining what light I can, on what I think needs it.