I wrote the following posting:

Derek writes:
"On the other hand how do we know what the thing is until we have found words
to describe it?   Are there wordless thoughts? I don't think so."

[For openers, I'd like to hear you describe what you have in mind with the
phrase "what the thing IS".

[Meantime, I suspect you'll respond to Mando that pain is not a thought. Or
love, or terror, or fatigue, or...

[The assertion that all thought is in words is flat-out nonsense.

[Writers struggle to choose the best words -- how could that be if their
thoughts are in words?

[How could you ever mis-speak yourself?

[Rock-climbers, chefs, chess-players, even tennis-players -- they're thinking
all the time, just not with words.

[But then you, like Hannah Arendt, may resort to a circular justification for
the assertion that all thinking is in words: "What those people are doing --
the chefs and chess players, and Mozart while composing, and painters while
painting, et al -- it isn't thinking." "Why not?" "Because thinking requires
words, silly!"]


Derek now answers:

[Cheerskep writes in part:   'Writers struggle to choose the best words --
how could that be if their thoughts are in words?'

[I think the answer is they struggle precisely because the thought only
emerges fully once they sense the best words have been found. Until then, it
is a
kind of embryo of a thought. 'Crime and Punishment' is in a sense just one
thought - which needed all those words to fully reveal itself.   Dostoyevsky
was
not writing down a pre-thought 'language-less' idea - like an amanuensis
putting someone else's ideas on paper.   He was exploring - discovering - his
thought, as he wrote.

[Like all artists.   I think we all do much the same in everyday life in a
less developed way.

[Wordless thoughts would be like 'a painter' who had never painted anything.]

In this posting I'll comment only about the specifics of Derek's answer. In
the next posting, I'll remark about his answer in general.

"They struggle precisely because the thought only emerges fully once they
sense the best words have been found. Until then, it is a kind of embryo of a
thought."

Then how does the writer know when the words he's mulling do not articulate
his thought? Obviously the thought already has to be there.

To use William's image, the writer already has the foot (the thought), now he
has to find the shoe (the words) that fit.

And how do you accommodate the fact that some writers do NOT struggle? A
thought comes to them, and they immediately "jot it down". As I'm writing the
short paragraphs you're now reading, these thoughts are coming to me in effect
instantly. I then begin the time-consuming task of "putting them into words".

Look at my two-line paragraph above beginning, "Then how doesb&" I knew
instantly what I wanted to "say". Finding the word to say it took time. I
mulled the
words 'mulling', and 'articulate'. "Will they convey what's on my mind?" I
asked myself. The "what's on my mind" was already there.

Recall that one of the four characteristics of human notion is that it's
transitory. As we "think about" our idea, we refine it, or change it basically
as
we see it doesn't square with other convictions of ours. Looking for the words
to articulate what's on our mind is a happy aid to forcing us to "think about
our thought". But the thoughts always precede the words. And they persist as
thoughts without words until we find the words.

What you call "the embryo of a thought" is merely a STAGE of thought. Calling
a notion an "embryo of a thought" suggests it's not a thought yet. But it is.
It may change, but it's equally a thought at every stage.

To say that "THE" thought "emerges" is wrong. It is merely succeeded by
another thought. In physics, string theory has changed and changed, and now it
seems about to die. But most thinkers would say it was a thought at every
stage.

You say:
"'Crime and Punishment' is in a sense just one thought - which needed all
those words to fully reveal itself.   Dostoyevsky was not writing down a
pre-thought 'language-less' idea - like an amanuensis putting someone else's
ideas on
paper.   He was exploring - discovering - his thought, as he wrote."

I think Dostoievsky would rebel at your assertion 'C&P' is "just one
thought". And I guarantee that, at each turn, his notion of what he wanted the
next
sentence, or scene, or the whole novel to "say" preceded his choosing the
words
to say it.

Writing down an "a pre-thought (i.e. already-thought) 'language-less' idea"
is precisely what Dos was doing. His thought did not "need words to reveal
itself" -- maybe to readers, but not to Dos. You mistake his THINKING UP THE
WORDS
to "say" the thoughts FOR THINKING UP THE THOUGHTS he wanted to say.   How
conceivably could he be searching for words unless he already knew what he
wanted them to say?

Again: finding the right words forces us to focus on the thought, and
sometimes that makes us refine or alter the thought. It can make us "think
about our
thought", but we won't choose the final words until after we've decided the
thought finally.

I am into the dictionary and thesaurus perhaps ten times a day, even at my
age. I do it because I have a fairly firm grip on a notion, and I want to find
the most serviceable words to "say" it. I can try literally dozens of
sentences
to articulate a notion I have in mind -- and throw them all out because I
realize each of them fails to put into words the notion I have in mind.

Derek concludes with:

"Wordless thoughts would be like 'a painter' who had never painted anything."
This, by equating thinking with writing, assumes the very point at issue. I
leave it to the visual artists on the forum to respond to the implication that
if they don't verbalize every part of their work, they are painting as
thoughtlessly as rain-drops on your windows pane.








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