#2: Fides: trust, faith

Check out my Latin roots SAT word of the day: a must for those studying for the SAT, while you are waiting for my next post!

Welcome, etymology fans, to my second entry concerning the Latin root fides: trust, faith. You may perhaps recall that Billy is currently en route from Europe back to Green Mountain, VT, having gone there on the advice of Panfloss, who suggested that he discover a golden genealogical past with which to woo Morgan, his bepedestaled beloved. Billy, contentedly munching upon a chocolate bar as he is musingly agonizing over his beloved Morgan, is suddenly attacked by a flagitious chihuahua, hence known as the huahua. As we hear of Billy's dramatic psychomachia, keep in mind the following Latin roots, reminding yourself again about Latin root word origins:



Fides—trust, faith {faith, fealt}

Fidus—trustworthy, safe {fi, fy}

Fido, fidere, fisus sum—to trust {fi, fy}

Foedus, foederis—treaty, league {feder}



Yeah, the defiant huahua, "not being trusworthy" to the established code of ethics that should exist between all sentient creatures, began to munch away at the highly coveted 88% dark chocolate; the bedewlapped owner of said predatory beast, thinking it "oh quite too cute" that her little doggie-woggie employed some clever subterfuge by nabbing the socially unnabbable, defied all decorum by again "not being trustworthy" to good manners, and said, Frenchifyingly, to our now benumbed Billy: "ain't that jeest adorahhhhble" (stress on the penultimate syllable).
"Perfidious wretch," screeched Billy, hardly able to believe that someone could condone such treacherous conduct, even a misguided huahua lover. The huahuaphile, or owner of said quadrupedal midget, continuing to show the greatest fidelity, or loyalty, towards the love of her life, screeched "infidel," and began to batter our beleaguered Billy, who, taking offense at the intimation that he was a "faithless" one, attempted to confide in, or "thoroughly trust" his row neighbor; this would be confidant, however, remained heavily unconscious during the whole row, and therefor could both not swear fealty or "loyalty" to Billy's just cause, nor could he become a confederate, or in "league with" our Billy. Attempting to form a confederacy, or leaguer, of those allied against the heavy horrific huahuaphile, he only found apathy and, to tell the truth, a great deal of antipathy towards him; it was only later that Billy discovered, to his dismay, that most of the people on the plane were returning from a chihuahua cooing conference; yes, you guessed it, the champion becooed huahua was the dastardly chocolate-devouring huahua itself! Not even fiduciary enticements could suborn the fidelity of those huahua cooers, and hence Billy, knowing somewhat the effects of chocolate upon alimentary canine canals, supplicatingly ground his teeth in acquiescence to the doggie-woggier, until, a few hours later, a great ululation arose in first class--the huahua had hiccoughed once, and, in bona fide fashion to veterinary admonitions, had breathed its last, the chocolate having done it in.
Realizing that he had escaped sure death, Billy now, strengthened and no longer diffident, now fully "trusting" himself that he could approach Morgan, armed not only with the lambent manuscript of Franz Fontagerus Liszt but also a narrow escape from the clutches of chihuahua cooers, fell asleep, only to hear the captain announce it was time for landing.



For more interesting etymologies of English vocabulary words from Greek and Latin roots, please visit http://www.wordempire.com/. In addition to beautiful Greek and Latin root word trees, a striking Greek and Latin roots poster is available, and numerous other Greek and Latin root words, based upon Word Empire III: Clarity, the most comprehensive Greek and Latin roots dictionary available. To discover a daily SAT vocabulary word and a Onceler word, please check out Magister Brunner's Latin roots SAT word of the day, an entertaining and informative discussion on the wonders of word origin and the fun of the English language.

Fides: trust, faith

Welcome, etymology fans, to my next entry concerning the Latin root fides: trust, faith. You may perhaps recall that Billy is currently en route from Europe back to Green Mountain, VT, having gone there on the advice of Panfloss, who suggested that he discover a golden genealogical past with which to woo Morgan, his bepedestaled beloved. Billy, full of confidence in his newfound ancestral glory, nevertheless, as his mind was wont to do, began to waffle back and forth as he was treated to 88% cacao content dark chocolate on his plane trip back from France, the amazing manuscript of Franz Fontagerus Liszt in his very hands, its cerulean glow lighting up the organic chocolate wrapper as he read about the wonders of sustainable agriculture, fooling his fellow row mates that he had a Timex indiglo. As he continued to savor the chocolate, he thought about the beauty of Morgan, and his heart, like the chocolate, began to melt, and, as in all great love, his courage began to melt as well, great fear overwhelming him like a tsunami engulfs an atoll.

As we hear of Billy's dramatic psychomachia, keep in mind the following Latin roots, reminding yourself again about Latin root word origins:

Fides—trust, faith {faith, fealt}
Fidus—trustworthy, safe {fi, fy}
Fido, fidere, fisus sum—to trust {fi, fy}

Billy's desultory sem (that wandering part of the mind that has over 60,000 disjointed thoughts per day) now began to focus uncharacteristically on one and only one thing: his confidence. His stream of consciousness ran amok: "Do I truly have complete "faith" or "trust" in myself? Can I confidently approach her and tell her how I feel? I have little self-confidence when I approach strangers; why would I have more bathed in her overwhelming radiance? I am probably the most diffident person I know, completing "lacking in faith," that is, having "no trust" in myself; and yet I did travel to Europe and went through many harrowing adventures just for her, but the very sight of her beauty sends my popliteals (the soft part behind the knee) to undulating. Best be faithful to the quest, lest my own faithlessness lead me to the fen of unfaithfulness. And even if, someday in the very far future, she does consent to marry me (for Billy admitted to himself that he did love her that much that he would unquestioningly plight his troth with her), would I be worthy to be her fiancé (a man held in "trust" or "faith" to a woman), even if she would consent to be my fiancée (a woman held in "trust" or "faith" to a man)? Oh, delirium, oh suspirium (Latin for "heartthrob")...oh wearium..."
Just as Billy's thoughts were beginning to sink into pure ecstasy at the thought of becoming affianced (entrusted by betrothal) to his scarlet flame, a corpulent mephitic image trudged parallel to his seat, now bending low to squeeze between the isles, and a little chihuahua, brought low before the heavenly chocolate of the man whose thoughts were in heaven, ate the food of the gods right up, bringing Billy back to the stark reality of nasty little barking dogs who drove everyone except their owners practically insane.
"Fido!" chided the waddling microcynophile (lover of diminutive dogs), whose very tone of voice indicated complete devotion and love to her toyie doggie woggie, which showed total devotal "trust" in her. Not knowing, of course, that chocolate is lethal for dogs, as it was certainly not lethal for her, she did not court medical advice, nor did she even bother apologizing to Billy, so mercilessly evicted from his morganatic musings by the tiny chihuahuic canine clippers.
Will the choco-chomping chihuahua make a visit to Davy Jones's Locker? Will the chicken cross the road while hounded by a rabid grey wolf? Will Billy's self-avowal of diffidence be a huge step in the right direction? Find out in the next installment of the Latin root word fides: trust, faith.

For more interesting etymologies of crucial English vocabulary words, please visit http://www.wordempire.com/, which fully discusses the wondrous power of Greek and Latin roots. In addition to beautiful Greek and Latin root word trees, a striking Greek and Latin roots poster is available, and numerous other Greek and Latin root words, based upon Word Empire III: Clarity, the most comprehensive Greek and Latin roots dictionary available. To discover a daily SAT vocabulary word and a Onceler word, please check out Magister Brunner's Greek and Latin roots SAT word of the day, an entertaining and informative discussion on the wonders of word origin and the fun of the English language.

#4: mitto, mittere, misi, missum: send; abandon

Welcome back to the fourth and final edition of one of the most prolific Latin roots that give rise to multitudinous English vocabulary words, the Latin root: mitto, mittere, misi, missum—to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}. A beautiful and exhaustive arboreal word list of English derivatives that come from this Latin root can be found on this Greek and Latin root words site; to see this Latin roots tree directly with all its attendant English vocabulary words, including many SAT and GRE prep words, see this Greek and Latin roots word tree. Latin verbs tend to be those classical parts of speech which have the most influence over word origin, the importance of which can be read about in its entirety at http://www.wordempire.com/, that site which elucidates fully the importance of Greek and Latin roots over English vocabulary today. In this series of posts I have taken an etymological journey through teaching vocabulary from the simplest of the mittere derivatives to the most difficult. This exploration of English vocabulary concludes with GRE vocabulary.



Mitto, mittere, misi, missum--to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}

Committo, committere, commisi, commissum--to pledge, join, send together



To manumit a slave is to etymologically "send" him off "by hand," via the Latin noun manus: {manu, main} hand, source of, et al.: manual, manipulate; manager; maneuver; legerdemain; and manuscript. Manumission is the "act of sending off by hand," the substantive or noun form of the verb manumit.

To remit payment is to "send" it "back" (via the Latin re: back, again) for something one has already received. The emolument that one remits is the remittance; if one does not pay what one owes (note that the English word "pay" derives from the Latin noun pax: peace; one etymologically makes "peace" with a merchant by paying for the goods received. Imagine a world where everyone paid what they owe; no more bailouts, and wouldn't we perhaps have the peace that we do not have now?) Most merchants, if not having received their due remittance within the customary net 30 (or immediately, as in retail and grocery stores, and most e-commerce sites) become unremitting in their insistence upon being reimbursed for that which they have given, thereby "not sending back" terms of peace, but instead become unremittent, that is, persistent and unrelenting, in their wanting to be paid, which, of course, is only just, if the merchant was on the up and up in the first place, as Ayn Rand states so cogently, coercively, and reasonably via her philosophy of Objectivism, delineated in her two great novels The Fountainhead and Atlas Shrugged. Rand's trenchant point is that the normal human being, if wanting a car, could hardly build one from scratch; it is only through mass production by the enterprising risk takers that most products available today even exist, which is clearly a wonderful service to those unwilling and unable to engage such said risk. I have a hard time with people who complain about sending a missive from one end of the country to the other for a whopping .41 via the United States Post Office; I could hardly drive from Virginia to California for 1000 times that price, even in a Prius.

If one receives a commission for something, one receives one's due "pledge" for services rendered; one can also receive a commission as in the authority to accomplish a specified task or duty to which one is "pledged" to do one's best. A ship, such as the Starship Enterprise, can also be commissioned into active duty, "pledged" to perform to its utmost; the Starship Enterprise also was at one time commissioned to be made, money having been "pledged" for its construction.

Some leaders, after they have served in a not particularly commendable way, demit, or relinquish their duty, "sending" themselves "from" office. Perhaps if pride didn't get in the way, or a false sense of shame, "demission" would occur much more often for the benefit of humankind. What's up with pride anyway? No fooling is going on here, after all...

Have you ever "sent" a missive, or letter, to someone that you wish you could have returned? Missives are sent practically on a quotidian, or daily basis, made much more manifest by the readiness of e-mail. A carefully handwritten epistle, or holograph (not to be confused with hologram, or 3-dimensional image on a 2-dimension surface) was less likely to contain egregious comments that might send a frienship into a tailspin, whereas the ubiquitous ease of e-mailing a friend allows for quick writing but less time for consideration of that which one has written; hence ease of writing can lead to difficulties, but also opens the door to much greater communication. A promissory missive can be particularly dicey if one has made a promise off the cuff with no real intention of fulfilling such an ephemeral declaration; this often happens when one purchases something that one cannot afford with the idea that 6 months before payments come due is a long ways away; impulse buying at its most insidious. When the promissory note comes due, usually and most poignantly when one is no longer even using the product so greatly coveted (instead coveting yet another), one wonders at one's fiduciary sanity.

So ends the discussion of mittere. It is now time for an intermission before I proceed onto my next topic, that of continuing the romance of Billy and Morgan. Cheers! Until then, check out this classical Greek and Latin roots SAT word of the day, which includes SAT vocabulary based on Greek or Latin root words. Interested in seeing more of the Greek and Latin root word trees discussed above, or even a Greek and Latin roots poster? English vocabulary becomes transparent once one knows the word origins code of the English language, the vastest part of which is, bar none, Latin and Greek root words.

#3: mitto, mittere, misi, missum: send; abandon

Welcome back to the third edition of one of the most prolific Latin roots that give rise to multitudinous English vocabulary words, the Latin root: mitto, mittere, misi, missum—to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}. A beautiful arboreal word list of all the English derivatives that come from this Latin root can be found on this Greek and Latin root words site; to see this Latin roots tree directly with all its attendant English vocabulary words, including many SAT and GRE prep words, see this Greek and Latin roots word tree. Latin verbs tend to be those classical parts of speech which have the most influence over word origin, the importance of which can be read about in its entirety at http://www.wordempire.com/, that site which elucidates fully the importance of Greek and Latin roots over English vocabulary today. In this series of posts I am taking an etymological journey through teaching vocabulary from the simplest of the mittere derivatives to the most difficult. This exploration of English vocabulary continues with SAT vocabulary; here follows the second post of these multitudinous SAT words, which will take the form of a series of questions.



Mitto, mittere, misi, missum--to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}

Committo, committere, commisi, commissum--to pledge, join, send together

Permitto, permittere, permisi, permissum--to allow to do, send through



Are you committed to anyone? If so, you have "pledged" yourself to him or her, having "sent together" your life with his or hers. Of course, there are many forms of committment to another, including verbal, contractual, societal, marital, and those of the heart, the latter of which is within the realm of human friendship, a word which ultimately traces back to the Proto-Indo-European root pri-: to love. (Note that "friend" is cognate with "pri-" because, through Grimm's law, "p's" and "f's" are interchangeable among languages, as are "v's" and "b's."



Are you uncompromising when it comes to your promises, that is, are your words "sent forth in trust" kept thereas, being not sent forth in trust again to someone else? If so, you are unwavering in your fidelity towards that pledge. For instance, one can be uncompromising in her commitment to excellence, therefor trying as best she can (and not in a wishy washy conciliatory way to one's day to day lackadaisical foibles) each and every day, sans transitory excuses, which is all dependent, of course, on one's strength of will and level of energy...try yoga: a true miracle drug.



Although most comic book characters possess an arch nemesis that tries his diabolical best to contribute wholeheartedly to the demise of each and every superhero, that is, to his "sending away," or "release," that is, his termination or death, it is a rare occurrence that the nefarious and facinorous fiends ever succeed; imagine Spiderman being defeated by Dr. Octopus, or the Thing by Dr. Doom, or Thor by Loki; not gonna happen. The words superhero and demise don't go together very well.



Have you ever known an emissary, or someone "sent forth" for a particular job, to fail in her endeavor? For instance, have you ever sent an emissary to the Likouala Swamp region of the Congo (at 55,000 square miles, or about the size of Florida, it is by far the world's largest swamp) to look for the Mokele-mbembe, and have her unwittingly, and most certainly unwillingly, step into a pythons' nest, only to have her demise reported 10 months later? Too bad the Nuvi didn't work in the middle of that paludal morass.

A likely premise in the search for the Loch Ness Monster is the idea that Loch Ness was somehow once in contact with the ocean, and has since been shut off from it, likely trapping large marine reptiles. This suggestion, "sent on beforehand," helps to explicate the existence of large creatures that could have migrated there from that larger body of water, hence now dwelling within the premises of Scotland's largest lake in volume, possessing more fresh water than all the lakes in England and Wales combined, primarily due to its 754' depth and 21+ square miles.

Has anyone ever been falsely submissive to you, seemingly to "send" himself "beneath" your command, but in reality being only a sneaky sycophant only interested in obliquely controlling you to get what he wants through false and underhanded obsequiousness? This slimy circuitous conduct occurs all the time in the business world, everyone knows about it, and yet those to whom lesser beings are outwardly submissive are confusingly hoodwinked anyway. Human vanity on hire for power, anyone? Vanity not so fair?

Sometimes it is easy to surmise, or "send over" (note that the prefix "sur" comes via French from the Latin preposition super: over, above; another example of the use is in the word surname, or that name which is "above" all in the family, that is, the collective last name that links all members together, like the cognomen, or "clan" name of the Romans) a guess or conjecture about why someone does something; however, one rarely knows the motives behind another person's conduct, sometimes not even one's very own; Marcel Proust, in Remembrance of Things Past, has a wonderful section on this attempt at surmisal of why another does something; after giving about six or seven different reasons, the reader is left with the surmise that there could even the number of possible reasons equal to umbrellas thrown over the heads of all the people at Grant Park to hear Barack Obama's stunning acceptance speech.

Please stay tuned for next week's etymological divulging I delve into GRE vocabulary words that come from the Latin root mittere. With your permission, or act of "sending through" I will now cease and desist, sending the reader pleasantly off to the hinterlands of etymological rumination.

Interested in a classical Greek and Latin roots SAT word of the day, which includes SAT vocabulary based on Greek or Latin root words? Interested in seeing more of the Greek and Latin root word trees discussed above, or even a Greek and Latin roots poster? English vocabulary becomes transparent once one knows the word origins code of the English language, the vastest part of which is, bar none, Latin and Greek root words.

#2: mitto, mittere, misi, missum: send; abandon

Welcome back to the second edition of one of the most prolific Latin roots that give rise to multitudinous English vocabulary words, the Latin root: mitto, mittere, misi, missum—to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}. A beautiful arboreal word list of all the English derivatives that come from this Latin root can be found on this Greek and Latin root words site; to see this Latin roots tree directly with all its attendant English vocabulary words, including many SAT and GRE prep words, see this Greek and Latin roots word tree. Latin verbs tend to be those classical parts of speech which have the most influence over word origin, the importance of which can be read about in its entirety at www.wordempire.com, that site which elucidates fully the importance of Greek and Latin roots over English vocabulary today.
In this series of posts I am taking an etymological journey through teaching vocabulary from the simplest of the mittere derivatives to the most difficult. This exploration of English vocabulary continues with SAT vocabulary; these SAT words are so prolific that I will devote two posts to their explication.


Mitto, mittere, misi, missum--to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}
Committo, committere, commisi, commissum--to pledge, join, send together
Permitto, permittere, permisi, permissum--to allow to do, send through

If aught is amiss, it has been "sent away" when it should be present. Have you ever "omitted" a word in a document that you should have kept intact? Then you have also sent that "away," via the Latin preposition ob: against, away. This omission clearly then was something unluckily omissible, or "able to be sent away," although clearly against one's ultimate wishes. One could, of course, admit one's mistake, hence "sending" it toward appeasement; one could furthermore transmit it back to the writing one is preparing, "sending" it back "across" for purposes of reparation, assuming that such a thing could be done, that is, if it were indeed "transmissible;" this, of course, is no big deal in the age of the word processor, but was moliminous in the now obsolescent age of the typewriter. It has been noted by Shakespearean scholars that if Shakespeare had had access to a word processor, he would probably had written not 39 but closer to 400 plays...possibly a boon, but, since the human race is not even close to understanding Hamlet, perhaps an anachronistic blessing. If no data is loss in the transmission of the redaction, one could go back in time, as it were, fixing the document as if merely a blip of errata occurred, never again having a document with such an egregious omission ever again.
And what if one were to err on a holograph, or handwritten document, especially in an epistle to one's beloved, and that epistle had already been read by the shining eyes of the beautiful reader? Then one has a few courses of action. One could compromise, (concessions ‘sent forth together’ between two people to come to a mutual agreement) if she had been wrong about anything in the past; if this is not an admissible solution, that is, if it is inadmissible, that it, not able to be "sent" towards atonement, perhaps you could accuse her of being uncompromising in your willingness to be compromising, which would most likely send your relationship into the tailspin of remission, or the act of "sending" it backwards, even to the point of your beloved being completely dismissive in your presence, or "sending" you away or apart in a disregarding or indifferent sort of way, causing you to emit, or "send" out a series of bemoaning groans as you consider an intermission of her much-anticipated and relished kisses, that is, those belipped delicacies that, even though intermittent in the past, or being "sent" amongst your lips at irregular intervals, still they were sure to happen; now her anger leads her to noncommittal acts, or those "not pledged" at all, whereas before her tiff they were as committal as regular rain in a temperate wetland. Proust might be pleased.
Please stay tuned for next week's etymological divulging of even more SAT prep words that come from the root word mittere. With your permission, or act of "sending through" I will now cease and desist, sending the reader pleasantly off to the hinterlands of etymological rumination.
Interested in a classical Greek and Latin roots SAT word of the day, which includes SAT vocabulary based on Greek or Latin root words? Interested in seeing more of the Greek and Latin root word trees discussed above, or even a Greek and Latin roots poster? English vocabulary becomes transparent once one knows the word origins code of the English language, the vastest part of which is, bar none, Latin and Greek root words.

#1: mitto, mittere, misi, missum: to send, abandon

One of the most prolific Latin roots that give rise to multitudinous English vocabulary words is the Latin root: mitto, mittere, misi, missum—to send, abandon {mess, mit, muss}. A beautiful arboreal word list of all the English derivatives that come from this Latin root can be found on this Greek and Latin root words site; to see this Latin roots tree directly with all its attendant English vocabulary words, including many SAT and GRE prep words, see this Greek and Latin roots word tree. Latin verbs tend to be those classical parts of speech which have the most influence over word origin, the importance of which can be read about in its entirety at http://www.wordempire.com/ , that site which elucidates fully the importance of Greek and Latin roots over English vocabulary today.
I believe that in this series of posts I will focus on taking a trip through teaching vocabulary from the simplest of the mittere derivatives to the most difficult. This exploration of English vocabulary will begin with the blue elementary word roots that form the infrastructure of our language; I will then move onto the most difficult root words in future posts.

A mission is a journey that someone has been "sent" on, such as a missionary for the purposes of proselytizing, who often tries to establish a mission, or permanent place to which the proselytized and missionaries are "sent." After receiving admission to a country, or an obligatory "sending" towards into order to admit someone, one could, after displeasing the gendarmes, be summarily dismissed, or "sent" away, having lost one's permission, or a "sending through" to allow someone to do something, in other words, losing one's permit to commit a particular act. Perhaps, after making a promise, or words "sent forth" in trust, to make a commitment (a "sending together," in other words, a "pledge") to behave properly, thus committing oneself to good behavior, not merely an intermission, or "sending between," of atrocious deeds, continuing them therefore at a later time, Bob could submit, or "send beneath or to the foot of" good conduct and stay there in virtuous splendor, shining like one of the 12 Paladins of Charlemagne in regal splendor. This general submission to promised good behavior should prevent any messes, or that which is randomly "sent" about haphazardly, that is, with all mussed up, such as what happens when an offensive weapon is "sent," (i.e. a missile), a clearly offensive "message" or deadly "messenger" of a belligerent neighbor. And what about a laser, that acronym light amplification by stimulated emission (a "sending" out) of radiation to shoot down the missile? Steven Spielberg can tell us all about that vis a vis Star Wars, as can Worf in the Star Trek Next Generation series as the tactical weapons officer, but that time is many centuries in the future, hence inadmissible as a solution now, or that which is "not able to be sent towards" a difficulty. For those pundits who view my prose today as somewhat messy, please know, as I sense your frustration, that I have accomplished what I sent out to do. Emblematic prose, indeed. All mussitation aside, now. Gotcha.

Interested in a classical Greek and Latin roots word of the day, which includes SAT vocabulary based on Greek or Latin root words? Interested in seeing more of the Greek and Latin root word trees discussed above, or even a Greek and Latin roots poster? English vocabulary becomes transparent once one knows the word origins code of the English language, the vastest part of which is, bar none, Latin and Greek root words.

#3: medius: middle; in the middle; in half

Welcome back to my third and final exciting rendition of a Latin roots adjective that gives rise to many English vocabulary words--the Latin root word medius: middle, in the middle, in half. Certainly of no mediocre importance in the rich history of word origins that gives rise to English vocabulary words, its importance as a Latin root word can be viewed in its immediate and unmitigated glory at this Greek and Latin root words venue by gongoozling (no lorgnette required) at the medius tree, where you will see related Greek and Latin roots (for a detailed history of word origin in regards to Greek and Latin root words, please visit my Introduction to Word Origin at http://www.wordempire.com/ ). The word list of English medius derivatives is quite extensive, and includes much GRE and SAT vocabulary, including SAT prep words and GRE prep words.
Before I continue in medias res (that is, in the "middle" of things, used usually to refer to a trope in epics in which the action begins chronologically in the "middle" of the story), let's take a look again at the related words to medius:

Medius—middle, in the middle, in half {mezz}
Medialis—of the middle {medal}
Medianus—central {mean}
Dimidius—half {demi}
Semi--half (Latin, not related to medius)
Hemi--half (Greek, not related to medius)


Billy stands in aesthetic arrest before the stained glass representation of the colossus, Fontagerus, that great statistician who not only could divulge the mean and median of the most dizzying sets of numbers by merely glancing at them, but could also reveal the Golden Mean of any set of words or mundane circumstances; he is sure that Morgan will be impressed by this ancestor of his, leading him to the glory of her admiration...but wait, no! Remembering his disaster at the French restaurant after he had learned all about French cuisine, he ruminated to himself that perhaps Morgan would ask him to slice through all the kinds of data Fontagerus could...could he, Billy, discover the mean, or "middle" of a group of numbers, or a median, that halfway point of the whole set of numbers? And he really didn't even fathom the Aristotelian Golden Mean...what if she asked him to explicate that most abstruse of concepts, or even to apply it? He was no Hegelian, able to synthesize apparent opposites into a unified whole. In a cold sweat, Billy left Greenwich, that oh-so-hallowed town along the Prime Meridian, in a mathematical cloud of unknowing...
On a dark, tenebrous night within the deepest recesses of Paris, Billy walks in despair, knowing not that which to do, but knowing that indeed his heart mimicked the gloom through which he was aimlessly perambulating. Oh to be walking with the demigoddess Morgan now! For surely she, of all, was "half" divine; much like the demimortal Fontagerus...but how could Billy prove himself? Moping thus through a thick haze of beleaguered emotion thoughts, suddenly, out of the eldritch pitchiness approached a dark figure, ensconced within the demimonde, or "half-world," that shadowy world that exists outside the "normal" world of reality, and lives within the gloomy recesses of night. Billy, unsure although eager after his encounter with the Tatterdemalion, stood still as the figure approached...pulling back a cowl of black, radiant golden hair cascaded forth, white teeth gleamed, and a single word escaped from the scarlet lips of the tantalizing demimondaine: demitasse?
As Billy and Panfloss sat at the Proast cafe, the decor of words of the great Proust amazingly filling every inch of wall space of the massive establishment, drinking their "half" cups of strong black java, Billy was surprised that Panfloss was masquerading as a denizen of the Parisian demiworld; Panfloss, white teeth gleaming in the flickering flares of the lamps of the cafe, seemingly unaffected (stainwise) by the thick, rich Proastian roast, said, provocatively, that not only was she not a demirep, or one of only "half" a reputation, but rather that she had been following up on Billy's attempts to find his relatives, and had located, within the deepest depths of the demimonde of Paris a relative that would not only astound the world of music, but would put Morgan at Billy's beck and call. Tired no more, boosted by the Proast roast, Billy, lit up by this revelation, quivering only partly because of the 16 cups downloaded (why are they so small, anyway?), spasmodically and only somewhat jerkily cracklingly exited.
Billy and Panfloss entered the doors of the abandoned building, three white doors framed by the darkest ebony he had ever seen. Within all was dusty, but, in the middle of a great hall, a piano stood upon the floor. Billy approached, and, within the seat, found a sheaf of papers, upon which he read:
"The last will and testament of Franz Fontagerus Liszt, the long-fingered phenom. I, who can play a demisemiquaver (a 1/2 of a 1/2 of an eighth note, or a 1/32nd note) and a hemisemidemiquaver (a‘½’ of a ‘½’ of a ‘½’ of an eighth note, or a ‘1/64th note’) at such a speed that not even human hearing can ascertain them all, have dissolved into light, like that of the Music Master in Hermann Hesse's Magister Ludi (a, anachronistic quibblers, delight!); I have been imbued with music, which has transmogrified my life force into that of music itself, being thereby no longer fit for the gross materialistic nature of this life."
Amazed by this development, Billy peered within the recesses of the great man's room of music, only to discover something amazing...not only the original manuscripts of the Paganini and Transcendental Etudes of Liszt, but also the Metapaganini Etudes, written in notes of translucent blue flame, five times faster than those notes meant for the human ear alone. Here, indeed, within the deepest confines of the underworld of Paris lay the secret for unveiling the genius of Liszt, and winning the heart of the Unwinnable One. Panfloss's teeth gleamed in the azure glow of the metatranshemisemidemiquavers, and Billy's heart began to glow as well, his eyes radiant with the lambent glow of the beautiful notes and the beatific image burned into his brain.

A striking Greek and Latin roots poster is available which contains this most non-mediocre Latin root, and numerous other Greek and Latin root words, based upon Word Empire III: Clarity, the most comprehensive Greek and Latin roots dictionary available. To discover a daily SAT vocabulary word and a Onceler word, please check out Magister Brunner's Greek and Latin roots word of the day, an entertaining and informative discussion on the wonders of word origin and the fun of the English language.

#2: medius: middle; in the middle; in half

Dear English vocabulary enthusiasts--

Welcome back to my discussion concerning a fine Latin roots adjective that gives rise to many English vocabulary words--the Latin root word medius: middle, in the middle, in half. Certainly of no mediocre importance in the rich history of word origins that gives rise to English vocabulary words, its importance as a Latin root word can be viewed in its immediate and unmitigated glory at this Greek and Latin root words venue by gongoozling (no lorgnette required) at the medius tree, where you will see related Greek and Latin roots (for a detailed history of word origin in regards to Greek and Latin root words, please visit my Introduction to Word Origin at http://www.wordempire.com/ ). The word list of English medius derivatives is quite extensive, and includes much GRE and SAT vocabulary, including SAT prep words and GRE prep words.

Before we continue on with the diabolical duo of Billy and Panfloss working in tandem to ensnare the gorgeous Morgan, let's review a few of the Latin roots that give rise to the English vocabulary words that we will be focusing on (much focus last time was paid upon English words that came from medius; this time more focus will be paid upon those subsidiary roots of medius itself):

Medius—middle, in the middle, in half {mezz}
Medialis—of the middle {medal}
Medianus—central {mean}

You will no doubt recall that in our last exciting rendition of Billy's somewhat middling attempts to impress Morgan, Panfloss, his mediator, suggested an exploratory trip to the Mediterranean Sea (that sea in the "middle" of the land, via the Latin root terra: land, earth) to discover his own roots, to divulge whether or not any of his ancestors had pinned medals (the word medal comes from a Latin coin which was valued at ‘half’ a denarius; a medal also looks like a coin) to their chests, to unearth a glorious past with which to woo the seemingly unwooable and superlatively non-mediocre Morgan! Deciding never to be mediocre himself ever again, that is, to never do anything "halfway" or non-superlatively "in the middle," he set off, full of immediacy, realizing that directness and not stopping "halfway" would serve him very nicely in his quest for the Questyng Beast of his past.

Wandering about day and night along the Prime Meridian (via the Latin meridianus: midday) of the city of Greenwich, he paused long enough in his despair on a dark rainy night, having found little with which to impress his beloved. Not knowing what to do, he suddenly heard, far off in the distance, a mezzo-soprano (in the "middle" of soprano and contralto) singing in the most haunting tones; led on by the eldritch intermezzo (short musical work "amongst the middle" of a more lengthy one) he entered a gorgeous medieval cathedral of immense proportions, and there, above, in the rarefied air of the clerestory, he saw a prismatic picture in stained glass of a mathematician with a sole word subscribed below: Fontagerus. Billy, beholding the iridiscent glow of the mathematician hard at work, gaped in astonishment again at his very own surname: Fontagerus. Was this the lost relative that would launch his amorous career? Was this the scholar who would bolster the mediocrity of his untoward claim upon Morgan's heart? At this moment of epiphanic wonderment, he was brusquely accosted by a somberly clad beadle, who urged him to leave the godly edifice and return the next day, as the music had now ceased.

The next day, as Billy was making his way toward the cathedral of Fontagerus, he saw, standing alone on the median strip that split a busy street in two, a lone tatterdemalion of suspect appearance who seemed to be disoriented. Billy, of a soft and middling temperament, kind to the core, leapt courageously to the aid of the tatterdemalion, and asked him "What, sire, is wrong?" Upon this kindly query, a smile radiated from the woman standing therein in rags, who immediately, seemingly restored, thanked Billy for his benevolence, and offered him a boon in repayment. Taking a wild shot in the dark, Billy asked if she knew of Fontagerus. The scholar, who had been posing as a medicant only so that people would leave her alone, said that she indeed did, and that she would tell Billy the story thereof:

Fontagerus, according to legend, had been a mathematician of no mean, or "middling" ability. It was rumored that he was able to take an incredible set of numbers and not only figure out the median (the number in the middle of them all), but also the mean (the average or central value of the numbers, or the sum of all the numbers divided by the number of numbers in the data set). It got to the point where Fontagerus, after doing so many of these statistical computations, was simply able to eyeball any number of numbers and miraculously derive their mean and median instantaneously, seemingly inspired from above, thus placing him smack dab in the "middle" of the academic milieu of his day (a milieu is etymologically ‘in the middle of a place'). The mathematical prowess of Fontagerus only continued to increase with age, and soon he was able to calculate the Golden Mean of any set of circumstances or phenomena, prefiguring the synthesis of apparent opposites that appears so lyrically in Herman Hesse's Magister Ludi. Thus could he find the harmonious "central" course in any disparate set of circumstances, and his counsel was thereby sought far and wide. This ability extended even to exegesis and the fusing of even seemingly incompatible opposites found in the greatest works of literature, including scripture (it is rumored that he was even able to solve the seemingly insoluble solution put forth in the Summa Theologica by St. Thomas Aquinas). The Tatterdemalion explicated to the enthused Billy that all the marginalia of the great Fontagerus were housed at the cathedral, although they were by and large illegible as they had been poorly preserved. Hence, sanctified and having undergone apohagiosis, or the turning into a saint, he was so honored by being placed in the clerestory of the Greenwich cathedral, immortalized in radiant glass.
What will Billy do with all this new information? Will Morgan be amazed by the revelation of this so scholarly ancestor of Billy's? Would Billy be able to explicate the importance of the mean, the median, and, most importantly, the Universal Golden Mean? Join Magister Brunner as he continues, in medias res (that is, in the "middle" of things, used usually to refer to a trope in epics in which the action begins chronologically in the "middle" of the story), the saga of Billy's immiddling European tour to discover his ancestry next week.

A striking Greek and Latin roots poster is available which contains this most non-mediocre Latin root, and numerous other Greek and Latin root words, based upon Word Empire III: Clarity, the most comprehensive Greek and Latin roots dictionary available. To discover a daily SAT vocabulary word and a Onceler word, please check out Magister Brunner's Greek and Latin roots word of the day, an entertaining and informative discussion on the wonders of word origin and the fun of the English language.

#1: medius: middle; in the middle; in half

A fine Latin roots adjective that gives rise to many English vocabulary words is the Latin root word medius: middle, in the middle, in half. Certainly of no mediocre importance in the rich history of word origins that give rise to English vocabulary words, its importance as a root word can be viewed in its immediate glory at this Greek and Latin root words venue by goggling at the medius tree, where you will see related Greek and Latin roots (for a detailed history of word origin in regards to root words, please visit my Introduction to Word Origin at www.wordempire.com). The word list of English medius derivatives is quite extensive, and includes much GRE and SAT vocabulary, including SAT prep words and GRE prep words.
You may or may not recall that Billy's last attempt to date Morgan had been somewhat of a downer, as she was not impressed by his mediocre, or ordinary (that is, "middling") knowledge of French cuisine. Certainly not overjoyed with his own mediocrity when it came to impressing Morgan, Billy decided to no longer be so medieval (pertaining to the "middle" ages, via the Latin root stem: aevum: age...a reason why medieval is sometimes spelled mediaeval) in his attempts to woo her. Not really knowing, however, what to do, since he viewed his personality to be only medium at best, he decided to employ an intermediary, or "go-between" (etymologically: one who is in the "middle among" two people, via the Latin preposition today acting as a prefix inter: among, between) to aid and abet his Cupidian efforts; he needed someone else to pin that medal (the word medal comes from a Latin coin which was valued at ‘half’ a denarius; a medal also looks like a coin) on his chest which would delight the brilliant, lambent orbs of his beloved. Being a medievalist himself, he thought of all the great literature of the Middle Ages that he had perused while in English graduate school; suddenly he realized that he needed a veritable Dr. Pangloss, or one who might quip that all was indeed for the best, too, in Billy's world, from which he could ineluctably conclude that Morgan would soon be in his arms (ah, you quidnuncy quibblers, who realize that Voltaire's great work Candide was not written during medieval times but rather in 1759, please recall that our protagonist is in the throes of untoward passion, thus addling his usually excellent memory, having slipped now towards merely mediocre recall). Ah, but what to do?
Indeed, what? Looking through the One Onceler Onyon one day, he found an add for Panfloss, a self-proclaimed modern-day panacea, or curer of all woes, and as Billy had nothing to lose as Morgan was paying him no attention whatsoever, he decided to call upon Panfloss in the hopes of employing him for the purposes of amorous mediation, to mediate upon his behalf with his love who stood so high upon the celestial pedestal. When Panfloss arrived later on that day, and explained her name (not, she claimed, based upon Dr. Pangloss at all, but rather because she was an expert at cleaning her teeth very well, which excited Billy to the point of distraction since here was someone who would not stand for mediocrity, thus contracting mediocariocrity) he hired her on the spot, enjoining her to take immediate (immediate attention requires ‘full,’ or etymologically ‘not halfway’ care ‘right away,’) action on his behalf in the quest for his Dulcinea (not realizing the irony of using a mediator to take immediate action; in the fogginess of love much intellect is lost, that is, he should have been aware that care mediated or ‘resolved’ through another in the ‘middle’ causes delay, not to mention financial distress, the mediation thus suspect).
And what did the sharp, toothy acumen of Panfloss suggest after meditating (from the Latin root: meditor, meditari, meditatus sum: to reflect upon, muse over, consider, ponder, think over: sometimes Greek and Latin roots can be confused with others of similar ilk, a misunderstanding that can easily be overleapt by actually knowing one's Greek and Latin roots) upon Billy's biliary condition, made so irrational now by this fey enchantment? Consulting a medium (one who acts as an intermediary, or middle person, between the physical and spiritual planes) herself, Panfloss, all in a fluster, burst into Billy's room and suggested, quite peremptorily, an exploratory trip to the Mediterranean Sea (that sea in the "middle" of the land, via the Latin root terra: land, earth) to discover his own roots, to divulge whether or not any of his ancestors had pinned medals to their chests, to unearth a glorious past with which to woo the Unwooable!
Billy was now in a state of discombobulation, a quandary of immoderate proportions. What will he do?
Or, rather, what would he not do?
To find out, stay tuned for the next exciting etymological entree, containing virtually edible word roots and root words.

A striking Greek and Latin roots poster is available which contains this most non-mediocre Latin root, and numerous other Greek and Latin root words, based upon Word Empire III: Clarity, the most comprehensive Greek and Latin roots dictionary available.
To discover a daily SAT vocabulary word and a Onceler word, please check out my Greek and Latin roots word of the day, an entertaining and informative discussion on the wonders of word origin and the fun of the English language.

#3: in: not; into; common Latin phrases

Up to this point I have been focusing primarily upon stems of English vocabulary words, those primary morphemes from Greek and Latin roots that form the core of English words. There are, however, also highly important affixes, such as prefixes and suffixes, that help to form the meaning of English words, and that can be helpful in ascertaining their precise meaning. My last post focused on the Latin root word in when it means "not;" here I continue with other spelling changes of "in" which mean "not," as well as "into" and the use of "in" in common Latin prepositional phrases.
You will recall that in my last post I discussed the spelling permutations of "in" as "il," "im," and "in;" the surfeit appear below:

ir: irrevocable: etymologically "not" able to be "called back;" irregular: "not" regular, or etymologically "not standard;" and irresistible "not" able to be resisted.

ig: ignoble: "not" noble; ignoramus: "not" knowing; ignominious: pertaining to having a "not" (good) name

"In" as a Latin root can also mean "into," a prefix which also contains orthographic permutations. Examples of this meaning appear below, which give rise to a fair number of English vocabulary words:

inflammable: able to burst "into" flame
incarnation: the act of coming "into" flesh
illumination: the act of bursting "into" light
incarceration: the act of putting "into" prison
imprison: putting "into" prison
encourage: act or process of putting heart "into" someone (from the Latin root cor, cordis: "heart").

As a last note for the heavy influence of the Latin root "in," note that numerous prepositional phrases have come over wholesale from Latin into English, for example:

in memoriam: the process, via commemoration, or putting someone or something "into memory."
in situ: "in" a place, that is, doing something "in situ" is doing it in the original position
in loco parentis: "in the place of a parent"

For more information on English vocabulary words deriving from Greek and Latin roots, check out the word origins dictionary on CD-ROM as described at www.wordempire.com, which not only contains a vast amount of SAT and GRE level vocabulary words, but also helps with teaching vocabulary and has a fine Greek and Latin roots library source page.

Stay tune for my next post, which will continue the enthralling saga of Billy and Morgan as they negotiate the thorny etymological thicket of the Latin root word medius: middle.

Please check out my Greek and Latin roots word of the day column: if you find this blog interesting, you will love that daily post (entitled: Word Wizardry by Logophilus).

#2: in: not

Up to this point I have been focusing primarily upon stems of English vocabulary words, those primary morphemes from Greek and Latin roots that form the core of English words. There are, however, also highly important affixes, such as prefixes and suffixes, that help to form the meaning of English words, and that can be helpful in ascertaining their precise meaning. My last post focused on the Latin root word in when it means "in, on". To view in in its full prolific influence see this Greek and Latin root words page, and check out the importance in general of Greek and Latin roots as a whole. The Latin root in makes its presence felt in many words, where it disguises itself in multiple forms and contains multiple meanings (for a discussion of prefixes and their importance in the English language, see my introduction to word origin and etymology). Once, however, one pierces the tricky orthographic disguises of this prefix, it reveals itself in all its utility. One of the most useful meanings of "in" is "not;" this form also goes through many spelling changes:

il: illegal simply means "not legal." Note the clever changing of "n" to "l" before the main stem (from the Latin lex, legis: law)...it would be silly, of course, to have an English word "inlegal." Other words with "il" in them meaning "not" include: illiterate (etymologically "not lettered") and "illegible" (etymologically "not able to be read"). To check out roots like lex, legis: law, littera: letter of the alphabet, and lego, legere: to read, please see www.wordempire.com which fully discusses the primary roots of the English language; in fact, you can see a complete list of all the Greek and Latin root words here.

im: immortal (etymologically "of or pertaining to not (being susceptible, that is) to death": main stem here is Latin mors, mortis: death); immaculate (etymologically having "no spot", that is, being "spotless"); immovable (can you guess?); and immense (etymologically "without measure" or "not having measure," thus boundless in its size).

in: incalculable ("not" calculable); insatiable ("not" able to have "enough": from the Latin satis: enough); innocuous ("not harmful," from the Latin noceo, nocere: to harm) and invalid ("not" possessing "strength," hence void; from the Latin validus: strong)

In my next post I will discuss further permutations of in meaning "not," as well as some highly used Latin prepositional phrases, such as "in memoriam" that have filtered into everyday use in the English language.

Please check out my Greek and Latin roots word of the day column: if you find this blog interesting, you will love that daily post (entitled: Word Wizardry by Logophilus).

#1: In—in, on, not, into

Up to this point I have been focusing primarily upon stems of English vocabulary words, those primary morphemes from Greek and Latin roots that form the core of English words. There are, however, also highly important affixes, such as prefixes and suffixes, that help to form the meaning of English words, and that can be helpful in ascertaining their precise meaning. Today and for the next few posts I will focus on one of these important affixes, the prefix in. To view in full glory the prolific influence of one of the most important of Latin roots that gives the English language a much-utilized prefix, see this Greek and Latin root words page, and check out the importance in general of Greek and Latin roots as a whole.
The Latin root in makes its presence felt in many words, where it disguises itself in multiple forms and contains multiple meanings (for a discussion of prefixes and their importance in the English language, see my introduction to word origin and etymology). Once, however, one pierces the tricky orthographic disguises of this prefix, it reveals itself in all its utility. When "in" means "in or on" it can take the following forms:

il: as in "illusory" (of a "playing on" someone's mind in order to deceive him) and "illustrate" (to "brighten upon" a page, or "illumine (it) within"). Note that "in" will turn to "il" when placed before the primary stem of a word that begins with "l." There are not many English vocabulary words that contain this spelling change.

im: A prolific spelling for "in." Examples include: "imbibe," (drink "in"); immure (wall "in" or incarcerate); implicit (fold "in," that is, an "implicit" idea is one that is tacitly implied but not directly stated, hence it is etymologically "folded in" a given statement, not to be verbally revealed, but understood nevertheless); immanent (dwelling or remaining "in"; an "immanent" deity "dwells within" us); and imbroglio (a "stirring or mixing in," hence leading towards a confused or difficult situation or complex and intricate state of affairs). Can you see why "im" is used instead of "in" in the examples above? Check out www.wordempire.com for more fascinating word histories and more examples of "im"...what an important trip they are!

in: No spelling changes here, and what a wealth of words. Here are a few: influx (a flowing "in"); inculpate (to place the blame "on" someone); invasive (pertaining to a going "in" somewhere, usually when not wanted or desired); invoke (a calling "on" or "upon" someone, usually a deity or someone you really need help from); and induct (a leading "in," usually in terms of bringing someone "within" the auspices of an organization).

ir: "in" morphs to "ir" when the main stem of the English word begins with an "r," such as in the following two examples: irrigate (a conducting of water "on" a field or pasture) and irradiate (from the Latin root word "shine on").

en/em (thank you French): "In" can also cleverly appear as "en" or "em," again depending upon the spelling of the main root words they are preceding. Two examples of "en" include: "encapsulate" (or etymologically to put "in" a little box, hence "to summarize") and "entice" (to lead "on," or, originally, to set "on" fire). Two examples of "em" include: embrace (etymologically to put one's arms fully "on" someone) and emboss (to place a "knob on" something, such as a piece of paper, a "boss" being something presented in "relief" so it rises from a surface, like a door"knob" from a planar surface of a door; emboss can also mean to hide "in a thicket;" "boss" here coming from the Frankish "boscu," woods, from which we derive "ambuscade" and "ambush"--deeply, woods, after all, comprised of trees, rise in relief from the planar surface of the flat ground, hence in "relief"). By the bye, the word "emboss" can also mean "to foam at the mouth like an enraged or frenetic wild animal." No guesses here, guys, unless it were to imply that spittle flowing from a hungry maw is symbolic of eventual "relief" of hunger.

We are just beginning with this ubiquitous Latin root. The next Greek and Latin root words post will focus on the prefix in when it means "into" and "not," both very important distinctions when it comes to word origins, but simple once unraveled.

Magister Britannus

#4: gnosco: gignoskein and gnosis

Greetings, those of you who are in the know! Today I will continue the 4th edition of subsidiary roots that come from the Latin root word gnosco, gnoscere, gnovi, gnotum: to get to know, find out. To look at this full root word tree, take a look at this Greek and Latin roots site, or check out this word tree on a Greek and Latin roots poster. The Greek root words are the following:

Gignoskein: to know, think, judge {gnost}
Gnosis: knowledge, inquiry {gnos}

These word roots are highly interchangeable. A diagnostic in medicine is used to gain knowledge of a particular ailment; a diagnostic can also be run on an automobile's engine. A technician or a physician is trying to diagnose an ailment in this way so that she can provide a suitable diagnosis, or thorough "knowledge" of the matter, usually entitled an expert opinion. Not all diseases or car dysfunctions, however, are diagnosable; they simply go beyond the "knowledge" and thus "inquiry" of applied technologies. Perhaps the patient could then seek a more informed diagnostician, one who could better "judge" or more accurately "think" about the perplexing matter at hand.
When it comes to spiritual "knowledge," a Gnostic, or adherent to Gnosticism, believes himself to be in the "know" when it came to joined elements of Platonism with Christianity. Gnostics believed in a diametrically opposed Universe, where reigned the good spiritual world in direct contradistinction to the evil material world; a savior had come to disabuse us all of the evil nature of materialism, and reassured us of the ascendancy of the good, spiritual, true nature of humankind. The gnostic adherent would be eventually released from the clutches of the evil material Universe, whereas the non-gnostic would be doomed to eternal metempsychosis, or rounds upon rounds of successive reincarnation. Agnostic, on the other hand, do not claim to be in the "know" at all, but rather "believe" that the divine is beyond the rational faculties of the human mind, although they concede that there could be such ineffable entities--we'll just never know about them. Kant, perhaps the greatest of all the German philosophers, touted such Metaphysical Agnosticism, the linchpin of the great Critique of Pure Reason, published in 1781, most certainly a book that a bibliognost would have knowledge of, but perhaps not have read, since even the contemporaries of Kant claimed that the great work would, if read in its entirety, have caused them to go insane.
To return to the saga of Billy and Morgan, any prognostications, or guesses to "knowledge," as to what will happen next in their new and budding relationship? Will Billy try to impress her again with his knowledge, perhaps prognosticating something seemingly impossible to know so as to impress her? Will he offer her a prognosis, perhaps, of a terrible disease that his grandmother has, predicting her ultimate demise? Or perchance, in a milder vein, he will simple predict the weather or the fluctuations of the stock market to her shocked surprise? Find out in the next installment of the whirling williwaws of their incunabulary path joinings.
To discover English vocabulary words at their riches, visit http://www.wordempire.com/ , where you will not only find a plethora (but can you really ever have too many?) of Greek and Latin roots, but also Greek and Latin root words trees that give rise to multiplicitous English vocabulary words.

# 3 of gnosco: ignoro: to not know and nobilis: known, well known

Greetings, those of you who are in the know! Today I will continue the 3rd edition of subsidiary roots that come from the Latin verb gnosco, gnoscere, gnovi, gnotum: to get to know, find out. To look at this root, take a looks at this Greek and Latin roots site, and then choose the correct word tree, or check out this word tree on a Greek and Latin roots poster. The following two Latin roots form a surprising number of words; nor is it surprising to find out or get to know that the second of these word roots form many more words than the first--and you'll see clearly why soon. The root words are the following:

Ignoro, ignorare, ignoravi, ignoratum—to not know

Nobilis—known, well known, famous, noble {nobl}

It is easy to see why these come from a verb meaning "to get to know, to find out." To be knowledgeable about the first root, ignoro, is to bypass ignorance itself, that is, the "not knowing" of something. If one ignores an unpleasant situation, one probably "knows" at least something about it (at least enough to know that it is something worth avoiding); one is pretending "not to know" about it, and hence treats the subject as either something "not (worth) knowing" about, or forcibly encourages oneself to remain "not knowing" about it, to the point where one becomes a volotional or willing ignoramus, that is, one who does "not know" anything about either a particular subject, or, indeed, many subjects (the opposite of which would be a polymath or Renaissance person, one who knows much about many things).
On the opposite pole, one can hardly remain ignorant of the nobility, those whom are etymologically "well known" or "famous," usually for having a great deal of aristocratic influence (by the bye, an "aristocracy" is "rule by the best:" note the underlying bias towards those in power; many would argue that most aristocracies are in actuality kakistocracies, or rule by the worst!). Hence, if one is noble, one should become "known" for good character, a character that supposedly underlay the noblewoman or nobleman (oftentimes rife with nobiliary particles, such as von and de, as in Chretien de Troyes and Cyrano de Bergerac and the von Trapp family, used to indicate noble rank); nobles had the charge of noblesse oblige placed upon them, the idea that those of high birth and powerful social position (that is, those "well known" to all the lowly because of their power and influence) were to act chivalrously towards the less fortunate, etc., that is, to act with honor, kindliness, generosity, etc. Oftentimes, however, this was definitely NOT the case (ask any medieval serf you know, and I'll bet she'd have a few good stories of oppression for you: kindly errare humanum est, truthfully absolute power corrupts absolutely). In politics a noble lie is a myth or untruth knowingly told by the nobles to maintain social harmony, particularly the social position said nobles. The noble lie, by the bye, was orginated by that great originator of ideas, Plato.
Since the nobles often did not live up to their noblesse oblige and so had to create the noble lie to maintain their thin reputations (at least in name), Romantic poets concocted the noble savage, or natural man, who was not corrupted at all by civilization or its Mammonic derivative money, but retained a kind of primitive, innate Goodness (the Platonic Idea of Good being all that is not evil, or at least some pertaining not to civilized human nobleness) with which native, unsullied instinct he acted nobly in all encounters with his fellow man, putting to shame all the nefarious acts of those nobles who acted so, well, ignobly. Lesser because civilized man would then, highly romantically, want to become ennobled by following and emulating the noble savage; this may have been the impetus, in its modern form, of the hippie (my very large cousin to the core). This golden primitivism, espoused by such authors as Milton, Montaigne, Rousseau, and Chateaubriand, attempted to glorify the ennobled man in his protypal state, bereft of and beyond the evil empires of those most dangerous English vocabulary words: capitalism, materialism, industrialism, and Elioticism. Later on chemists joined the game as well, creating the "noble gas," which by and large does not intermingle and thus stain itself with other elements (i.e. is practially inert), and the "noble metal," which is also resistant to oxidation and therefore corrosion and rust.
I'll leave it up to you to determine whether or not Shakespeare's and Fletcher's The Two Noble Kinsmen in the guise of Palamon and Arcite (from Chaucer's Knight's Tale) were of the civilized nobility, or of the noble savage ilk.
For more word origins from Greek and Latin root words, take a gander at www.wordempire.com, the site that not only posts word lists of English vocabulary words, but also makes beautiful word trees of what is one of the most effective tools we humans possess, and one of the most intricate...and noble.

# 2 of gnosco: cognoso, cognoscere, cognovi, cognitum: to learn, know

For future discussions of the incredible range of English vocabulary words that come from Greek and Latin root words, I will list the stems of the language in sky blue, beginning with the ff.:

Cognosco, cognoscere, cognovi, cognitum—to learn, know {conn, quaint}.

For a fascinating discussion of the stems (main root words) and morphemes (main root words, affixes, and infixes) of English vocabulary words, please access my Introduction to Classical Word Origin.

When Billy recognized Morgan after not seeing her for many years, he ‘got to know’ her ‘again’. After this recognition had occurred, he really wanted to reacquaint himself with her bubbling effervescent personality (note the funny spelling change of this Latin root from "cognit" to "quaint:" Old French is the culprit; French has certainly added a great deal of color to our language, and for a large part keeps the Scripps National Spelling Bee in business) so he decided to invite her on a date to a quaint (the adjective "quaint" can mean ‘cunningly made’ by someone who has ‘learned’ a skill, but has also evolved into meaning ‘strange’ and ‘odd’ in an old-fashioned sort of way) French restaurant so as to make the soiree a highly memorable rendezvous.
Billy must have possessed some sort of oracular precognition, or foreknowledge, because Morgan had, over the years, become quite the cognoscente of French cuisine, "having learned" all the ins and outs of haute cuisine. Billy, certainly no connoisseur whatsoever of food, knowing" little of its art, therefor decided to reconnoiter the restaurant to "learn" a little about it beforehand in order to impress his hoped-for new beloved, so he went, incognito, to the place itself, pretending to be one of those magazine food tasters that would later report on the sumptuousness, or lack thereof, of the food. Displaying a tad bit of cognitive dissonance in his new role, he ordered biftec, and pronounced it a veritable miracle (grass fed, hugged, kissed, and all). Raving about his successful reconnaissance mission in which he "learned" everything he needed to "know," he felt fully prepared for his restaurant revel, ready to drop linguistic tidbits upon the lift of the fork, until he discovered, later on the next evening, that Morgan had gone incognita as well and was going for none of his obsequious culinary cognition (and who herself was a vegetarian).
To further one's own cognitive skills (with what else can one think and learn except via words?), visit the home of Greek and Latin roots, where you will discover a host of Greek and Latin root words and their pullulating (teeming) attendant and devoted English derivatives, most of the English vocabulary words you will ever need or probably want to acquaint yourself with.
Written by Brett Brunner of www.wordempire.com
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#1: Gnosco, gnoscere, gnovi, gnotum: get to know, find out

One of the highly prolific Latin roots which is a superb source of English vocabulary words is gnosco, which has a plenitude of subsidiary words which are based upon it, which I will fully discuss in upcoming blogs--for now, to take a look at this complex and fascinating verb, take a look at it at this Greek and Latin root words site, at which you can also view a beautiful Greek and Latin roots poster. The fourth principal part of the verb, gnotum, gives us the word "notice;" when one is given a notice, one "gets to know" or "finds out" about an important piece of information. If one has a "notion" of something, one has "gotten to know" or "found out" something about it. To "notify" someone is to "make them find out" about something; one usually gives them a "notice" or a "notification." People who are highly "noticeable" are ones who stand out in a crowd so that everyone can easily "get to know" them, whereas the more reserved among us might be completely "unnoticeable" in the milling crowd of hoi polloi. On a finer point of semantics, if one is famous (from the Latin root fama: rumor, report, or reputation), or has a good report or reputation, that is a good thing; its opposite is usually "infamous," or one who does not have a good story or rumor about them--in other words, they are "notorious" for something they have done which is not particularly morally upstanding, such as Black Bart, who was infamous or notorious for robbing the Wells Fargo stage coach on a regular basis, to the point where Wells Fargo actually decided to offer him a regular pay stipend not to do so! Imagine his "notoriety" as word of his hire leaked out! A last interesting derivative for this mother of many similar Greek and Latin roots is the word "notional," which has come today to mean that one only has "gotten to know" something to such a small extent that it remains speculative or hypothetical, in other words, one still needs to "find out" a lot more before one can talk about it with any certainty.
The next Greek and Latin roots blog will cover one of the large Latin roots that is an offshoot of "gnosco, gnoscere, gnovi, gnotum," the verb "cognosco," which gives rise to many English vocabulary words that a "cognoscente" would certainly "recognize." Check out this root and 1172 others at http://www.wordempire.com/ , the site that shows unequivocally the power that Latin and Greek root words have in attaining a vast English vocabulary,

#2: forma: shape

On with more formative information on one of the more prolific Latin roots, forma. There are many different forms, or "shapes," in which this word is used, often as the suffix "-form". Aught cruciform is "shaped" like a cross (via the Latin crux, crucis: cross), whereas writing that is cuneiform is wedgelike in "shape" (via the Latin cuneus: wedge). Numerous anatomical descriptive terms use this suffix: penniform means "shaped like a wing or feather" (via the Latin penna: feather, wing), reniform is "shaped" like a kidney (cf. renal, pertaining to a kidney), arciform is "shaped" like an arch, plexiform is "shaped" like a network (such as in the retina of the eye), and pisiform is "shaped" like a pea, referring to a small bone of the 2o6 in the body (originally 350; many fuse in the odyssey towards adulthood). For more information on the roots used with the suffix "-form," check out www.wordempire.com .
Can a formula be deformed? Consider first what a formula is: a formula in mathematics is an
equation which gives ‘shape’ to a rule or fact. Something deformed in most cases refers to something "shaped from or down from" the way it should look, usually referring to something physical; so, an incorrect "formula" could be malformed, or "shaped badly," referring to no known rule or fact, or a warping thereof, a malignant serendipity, as it were. Imagine a scientist or mathematician, after having been misinformed or disinformed by such a rogue formula, attempting to apply it to solve the world's problems; after formatting it, or shaping it with countless myriads of data, his misguided and insidious formulaic approach would have to undergo a vast reformation, or "shaping again" after it wreaked vast havoc upon the fragile planet; any future attempts at world-saving schemes would have to be placed under the strictest reformatory preconformations before being allowed to be used on a Universal scale. Let us be glad that no Platonic Form, or Idea, ever took shape that embodied this aforementioned malformed formula. For more Greek and Latin root words examples, see this Greek and Latin roots site, at which you can see one of its Latin roots, forma, in all of its informative glory. 
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