g. "lllarge", "rrrrruin"). 9. Hyphenation splitting up the word into syllables or letters to suggest additional stress on the word (e.g. "He was s-l-a-i-e- d."). 10. Italics shows that the word is important in this context and should be pronounced accordingly. Traditionally foreign words are italicized. 11. Graphon is distorted () spelling. It occurs in prose only (in dialogues). It suggests careless, incoherent pronunciation caused by young age, intoxication, or ignorance of the discussed topic. There appear also social and educational factors. There is permanent graphon used by many writers (e.g. "fellow" "fella"; "tomorrow" "tomorra"; "don't know" "dunno"; "give me" "gimme"). This spelling is very close to how we pronounce words. Rendering them in Russian or Estonian is rather difficult. 11. COMMON LITERARY AND COLLOQUIAL VOCABULARY
9. Hyphenation splitting up the word into syllables or letters to suggest additional stress on the word (e.g. "He was s-l-a-i-e-d in Africa."). 10. Italics shows that the word is important in this context and should be pronounced accordingly. Traditionally foreign words are italicized. 11. Graphon is distorted spelling. It occurs in prose only (in dialogues). It suggests careless, incoherent pronunciation caused by young age, intoxication, or ignorance of the discussed topic (temporary reasons). There appear also social and educational factors. There is permanent Graphon used by many writers (e.g. "fellow" "fella"; "somewhat" "summat"; "tomorrow" "tomorra"; "hell of a" "helluva"; "don't know" "dunno"; "give me" "gimme"; "what do you do" "whado"; "old" "ole"; "where are you" "whereja"; etc.) (e.g. "We lov ar ticher
But don't get me wrong--he's a terrific philosopher too. I mentioned the ping pong first because we've just been playing and I'm exhausted."2,3 In the previous chapter I noted Austin's complaint that, when a philoso- pher perceives infelicity in an utterance, the philosopher tends too quickly to reject the sentence uttered as false. During the 1950s and 1960s, this was even a fashionable style of argument: from "This sentence would sound funny if uttered" to "This sentence is false/incoherent/meaningless." Grice is in part concerned to eradicate that argument form. And we are now in a position to appreciate an example of it (a slightly convoluted example, because it is itself about falsity). Recall, from chapter 2, Strawson's first objection to Russell's Theory of Descriptions. He says that no one would ever respond to an utter- ance of "The present King of France is bald" by saying, "That's false." And he is right about that. But from it he infers that the sentence uttered was
A 32 X 32 tableau may be set up with the 32 characters of the Baudot alphabet across the top as plaintext and down the side as keys. Because the Baudot alphabet is public information, the composition of the 32 cipher alphabets filling the body of the tableau would be known. Secrecy in the Vernam system thus resides entirely in its keys. Looped keytapes would pass through the Vernam mechanism at regular intervals, permitting a simple Kasiski solution, even though the key recovered would be incoherent. The engineers made the keytapes extremely long to increase the difficulty of such a solution. But then the keytapes became too hard to handle. Engineer Morehouse surmounted these difficulties by combining two short keytapes of different lengths in a Vernam device as if one were enciphering the other and using the extremely lengthy output—called the secondary key—as the key for plaintext. If one loop were 1,000 characters long and the other 999, the one-character difference would
"I saw your face in his mind." He suddenly leaned forward, one elbow appearing on the table, his hand covering his eyes. The movement was so swift it startled me. "It was very... hard -- you can't imagine how hard -- for me to simply take you away, and leave them... alive." His voice was muffled by his arm. "I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper. I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled. Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked. "I'm ready to leave," I qualified, overly grateful that we had the hour-long ride home together. I wasn't ready to say goodbye to him. The waitress appeared as if she'd been called
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