My dear head

My dear head does not give me headaches. This is one of the reasons I literally love it and would not change it for anything in the universe or multiverse entire and beyond. Should I write, “my dear Head…” ?


Some people will say you capitalize for respect. You spell “the Queen’s English”, and you write “the Chairman”. Well, but then you’d have to assume respect about the Nazis and the Jihad, whoever knows the rationale for the “Queen’s English”: language does not belong with the royal interests, according to the official website:


Elizabeth II official website; click to enlarge.


“An animal lover since childhood, The Queen takes a keen and highly knowledgeable interest in horses. Other interests include walking in the countryside and working her Labradors, which were bred at Sandringham. A lesser known interest is Scottish country dancing.”


The official note is absolutely worth trust, as I most unfortunately had to experience during my 2,5 years stay in England, in environments by royalist services.


To return to thought, there is observable singularity in use of capital letters.



“The question as to whether there is such a thing as divine right of kings is not settled in this book. It was found too difficult. That the executive head of a nation should be a person of lofty character and extraordinary ability, was manifest and indisputable; that none but the Deity could select that head unerringly, was also manifest and indisputable; that the Deity ought to make that selection, then, was likewise manifest and indisputable; consequently, that He does make it, as claimed, was an unavoidable deduction. I mean, until the author of this book encountered the Pompadour, and Lady Castlemaine, and some other executive heads of that kind; these were found so difficult to work into the scheme, that it was judged better to take the other tack in this book (which must be issued this fall), and then go into training and settle the question in another book. It is, of course, a thing which ought to be settled, and I am not going to have anything particular to do next winter anyway.” 😉


Mark Twain had a wonderful sense of humor. 🙂


Heads ― whether of states, boards, or phrases and clauses ― their capitalization depends on relevance. The President would be the president in office. The Queen would be the current queen of a monarchy. We can write “the Flag” for “the American flag” (the British flag, the French flag, and other), provided we have enough reference in the context. We can write the American president or the English queen, about people in their offices, as then the focus is on the function with regard to the country.


Compared with the human body, country heads would show some potential for detachment. A person is in office, and then, another person is in the same office. This obviously is not the case with human bodily heads, where the potential for detachment is dramatically lower, regarding sustained function.


Therefore, it is my dear head not to give me headaches.


It has been also owing to this valor of my dear head that I may offer a public domain translation of Common Sense by Thomas Paine. Feel welcome. 🙂


The conscious mind of Emily Dickinson

There is an occurrence in Emily Dickinson’s verse; it is beyond mere coincidence or unaware habit. Noticed, it helps see her light musing with Greek and Latin.


(Time and Eternity, XVIII, Playmates) Latin: collusor, companion at play; condiscipulus, school-mate; angelus, a messenger, an angel; lapillus, small stone, pebble (marble?); lusus, a game;  Greek: ὁμηλυσία, omelusia, companionship.


God permits industrious angels
Afternoons to play.
I met one, — forgot my school-mates,
All, for him, straightway.


God calls home the angels promptly
At the setting sun;
I missed mine. How dreary marbles,
After playing Crown!


The inspiration is morpho-phonemic. Let us try a few more pieces. (Life, XXIII, Unreturning) ἀνάπλυσις, anaplusis, washing or rinsing out; ἀνήλυσις, anelusis, going up, return; ἤλυσις, elusis, step, gait; lenunculus, a small sailing-vessel, bark, skiff (the toddling little boat).


‘T was such a little, little boat
That toddled down the bay!
‘T was such a gallant, gallant sea
That beckoned it away!


‘T was such a greedy, greedy wave
That licked it from the coast;
Nor ever guessed the stately sails
My little craft was lost!


We can compare the Greek -upo/ypo- for I asked no other thing (Life, XII, p. 213): ἰσότυπος, isotypos, shaped alike, συνυπόπτωσις, synypoptosis, simultaneous presentation to the senses; Latin cauponarius, a male shopkeeper, tradesman, ποπτερνίς, upopternis, a knob (a kind of a button that can twirl, in the modern use), and πo, below, looking a picture up and down (as Brazil on a map).


I asked no other thing,
No other was denied.
I offered Being for it;
The mighty merchant smiled.


Brazil? He twirled a button,
Without a glance my way:
“But, madam, is there nothing else
That we can show to-day?”


Feel also welcome to read Why I stay with the first print.