Peter Conroy

12 December 2011

Chicago Literary Club

Yes, you do speak Latin!

I think we would all easily agree with the statement that Latin is a dead language. Nobody speaks it anymore; hardly anyone studies it; and it is just so old. Nonetheless, I would like to argue that in fact Latin is indeed still living, a little bit at least. You speak it almost every day even if you don’t fully realize it. I apologize in advance to the lawyers and medical doctors in the audience whose professional jargon uses Latin and who already know some of the material I will present. For the rest of us, let’s examine real Latin words and phrases that have entered English whole, with little or no modification. I am not talking about etymologies or derivatives here, but full words and expressions that have penetrated our language to the point that they are rarely if ever put into italics, which is the usual way to indicate that a word is foreign. I do not pretend that all these phrases trip effortlessly off our tongue. Nonetheless, mutis mutandis (allowing for appropriate changes), we do have recourse to them in certain situations and almost unfailingly we all understand them easily.

Let us begin, not at the beginning, but at the end for a change. Shakespeare ends a number of scenes and almost all the acts of his plays with the stage direction Exeunt omnes, they all go out or leave the stage. For a single personage, the stage direction reads simply exit. In America we indicate doors, stairways, and other points of egress with the sign exit, which means he or she goes out. The word is thoroughly Americanized, both as adjective (exit strategy) and noun (all exits are on the third floor). Moreover, we conjugate this already conjugated verb form: “she exits,” “exiting.” We have also made it a transitive verb: “Elvis has exited the building.” In Shakespeare’s own country, to indicate an exit, they use the less impressive vernacular “way out.”

Hic et nunc is the place and the moment to look at prepositions. We all know in vino veritas; we surely accept the idea behind mens sana in corpore sano even if we avoid the gym and regular exercise. In situ is more eloquent than on the spot. Medical technology has achieved numerous impressive results like in vitro fertilization. Depending on their specialty, doctors conduct post mortem exams or worry about female patients suffering from post partem depression. In extremis describes someone on the verge of death, who is thus in articulo mortis. Rigor mortis will soon set in. Continuous shaking and the loss of body control due to the over consumption of alcohol is diagnosed as delirium tremens, the DTs. Ave atque vale (hail and farewell) is a dignified and sophisticated acknowledgement of death. It often appears in literary journals as a tribute to a much appreciated and recently departed colleague.

The Latin preposition trans has become a common prefix in English, e.g. transnational, transatlantic, transcontinental, to such an extent that we have forgotten its origins. Cum connects two words but more strongly than a simple “with.” The team is looking for a coach-cum-trainer; the theater wants a director-cum-stage manager; Middle East countries often have a political party-cum-militia. Via is an ablative case (which implies or requires a preposition) meaning “by means or by way of”: you can ship via plane or train via Turkey. I am sure that our personal libraries contain volumes that have bookplates bearing the inscription ex libris. An event that happens ex nihilo springs out of nothing; it does not have any cause we can identify and so is synonymous with ab ovo (out of the egg). A committee meets ad hoc (for this) when it has only a single charge to fulfill. Ad hoc places strict limits on whatever word it modifies. Long ago almost everyone possessed a vademecum (come along with me). This intimate, personal object might be a book on the night table, or some other item they took everywhere. It also served to indicate a personalized list of expressions or concepts that an individual would carry and refer to for guidance in her everyday behavior. Such an item would be a sine que non (an indispensable object) for upper-class individuals.

Economists calculate earnings per capita, set the fees they charge pro rata. Sometimes they are not assiduous and provide us material that is only pro forma.

We pepper our conversations with pro and con (the shortened form of contra). Ergo, they are too obvious to warrant attention per se. De facto is another common and widely used phrase, symmetrical in form and opposite in meaning to de jure (according to the law). An example: “De jure, I own the car; de facto, she does.” The musical notation ad libitum means that the performer can take liberties (slower, faster) with the piece she is playing. By extension it means “as much as you want,” as in drinking or eating ad libitum. Clearly, a bit of Latin can hide our faults or justify our excesses. Ad lib is the shortened form, both verbal and adjectival in English, meaning spontaneous, without preparation, or according to one’s own preference regardless of the usual norms. According to the Harvard Dictionary of Music, perpetuum mobile designates “pieces which proceed from the beginning to the end in the same rapid motion”; in physics, it is the eternally sought-after but never-yet-found source of inexhaustible energy.

Let’s continue with music. Tacet (it is silent) is a third person singular present tense verb that has evolved into the English homonym “tacit.” Used in orchestral scores, tacet indicates when an instrument is not playing for an extended period, when it is silent. Musicologists use opus (work) to catalogue and number a composer’s musical corpus or output. Opera, the correct Latin plural of opus, is singular in English. It refers of course to a dramatic genre that combines vocal and instrumental music with stage production, décor, and costumes.

Time is a phenomenon that often requires prepositions. Post means after: post operative difficulties, post modern, post midnight revelries, post diluvian. Logicians love to denounce the fallacy in the dictum post hoc ergo proper hoc which confuses sequence with causality. To fully understand any situation we need to know what happened before as much as what happened after, post factum. We do not need retroactively enforced rules, however, which are ex post facto. An afterthought hastily added to a letter is a PS, a post scriptum.

The president pro tem of any organization holds that position temporarily (literally, for a time). A person may speak ex tempore (literarily, out of time or without the usual time limits) or extemporaneously. Extemp is a synonym for ad lib, mentioned above; both are entirely Americanized now. A meeting that is adjourned sine die has not fixed the date for its next get-together. If you have a day off, take advantage of the free time, carpe diem. Traveling salesmen often get paid a per diem or fixed amount of money per day for expenses while on the road.

We even use Latin abbreviations when telling time. Anno domini, AD, gives us the year in what we now call the Contemporary Era. As for the time of day, we have post meridiem or PM for after the middle, ante meridiem AM for before noon.

Latin adds prestige to our speech and what the conservative columnist George Will has been seeking in the political realm, gravitas. When two athletes or teams achieve the same final result (I’m thinking here mostly of races), we call it a tie; saying ex equo, however, means the same thing but adds gravitas to the record book. The Super Bowl counts its games with Roman numerals. In this counting system football is sui generis. Hollywood films usually show their copyright or production date in Roman numerals, while the same information is given in English (really Arabic figures) on the DVD or VHS box. Movies that have sequels or prequels demonstrate a similar contradiction. Films with serious pretensions, like Rocky or Star Wars, use Roman numerals to identify the follow-ups. Mindless action films, like Terminator or Die Hard, as well as video games, use English numbers. Roman numerals are de facto the default option that we have for the outline format in most computer software programs. A recent film about Nelson Mandela and the South African rugby team advertised its gravitas by its Latin title, Invictus. Titles are a key marketing strategy in Hollywood, and opting for one in a foreign language is a risky gambit for a very conservative industry. The natural leader of an elite group might be called the primus inter pares (first among equals), which is so much more dignified than our culinary “big cheese” or Hawaiian “big kahuna.” Politicians are commonly considered less honest than used-car salesmen. One avoids telling the truth, the other conceals it; or vice versa. Caveat emptor applies to voters as well as buyers. A caveat denotes any misgiving or hesitation we harbor about a person or a situation. Many politicians are asked to serve on boards of directors ex officio. In politics we talk about a casus belli or the reason for going to war. Honoris causa is not a university degree that we earn by class work, but rather one that is bestowed on us for our overall accomplishments, for the honor of the cause. A trial in absentia is one at which the defendant is not present. Governments, for political reasons, do from time to time refuse to allow foreigners they consider undesirable to enter their country by designating them as persona non grata. If such a person wanted to enter that country anyway, he would have to do so incognito. A quid pro quo proposes an exchange: you give me this and I’ll give you that. Latin puts an intellectual veneer on what we would ordinarily call political horse trading. Dubious activities are carried out sub rosa. Literally or in sensu strictu, the phrase means “under the rose,” the rose being the symbol of a secret society. Thus the term came to designate any secret action. We might comment on such proceedings inaudibly, sub voce (in an under voice). In contrast, the more courageous might speak out publicly viva voce, which originally described oral university examinations that were carried out in public. Unfortunately, some of our politicians are compromised by illegal and/or immoral acts when they are caught red-handed or in flagrante (delicto), although the term is usually reserved for sexual escapades. Here I am perhaps veering off into terra incognita (unknown territory); I should quickly return to terra firma. The usually precise Romans were a bit fuzzy when they spoke of their government, which they called the res publica (the public thing). That term has morphed quite a bit, evolving into a quite specific system of government that we call a republic. Politically, economically, on the web, and in entertainment, American English is the world’s lingua franca because it is ex facie (on the face of it, obviously) the language of negotiations and money around the planet.

Slogans for organizations or institutions delight in the prestige Latin confers. Chicago’s motto is Hortus in urbe, a garden in the city. The motto of New York State is excelsior (ever upwards), a hortatory encouragement to achieve higher and more challenging goals. It was also the trade name of an old packing material known as wood wool, replaced today by the very vernacular bubble wrap. E pluribus unum (out of diversity unity) is minted on our coins. Marines proclaim themselves Semper Fi, an abbreviation for Semper Fidelis. Boy scouts consider themselves Semper paratus. While they no longer give diplomas written in Latin, universities continue to recognize their students’ outstanding achievement with laude, magna cum laude, summa cum laude inscribed on those diplomas. However, they do maintain the Latin on their seals and emblems, perhaps because these are material monuments and thus difficult to modify. Harvard’s motto is Veritas, a term very popular with high schools and their student newspapers. Our local Loyola University has ad majorem Dei gloriam (to the greater glory of God) on its official escutcheon. De Paul boasts Viam sapientiae monstrabo tibi (I will show you the way of wisdom). Reflecting its more popular and land-grant origins, the coat-of-arms of the University of Illinois proclaims in English “Learning and Labor.” The University of Chicago promises Crescat scientia, vita excolatur (Knowledge increases, life is refined). According to the article in Wikipedia, the undergrads translate this as “Where the fun goes to die.” Entirely lacking in proper university gravitas.

Writers, editors, and grammarians emphasize the elevated level of their work by using Latin phrases. In grammar, a non sequitur is a statement that does not follow logically from what precedes. Sic is a marvelous tool, no! it is a veritable weapon in the hands of a clever editor. Invariably in square brackets, [sic] means simply “thus,” but its implications can be murderous. Placed behind the word being quoted, “thus” means something like “that is how the fool misspelled the word!” Or, “what an egregious mistake, but I’m not correcting it.” There is a implicit connivance here, as well as a condescending challenge by the editor to his reader: “I see how wrong this is … don’t you? So I won’t even tell you what’s wrong with it.” Strategically placing [sic] here and there, an editor can, with a few strokes of his red pencil, cut down the author he is annotating and intimidate his own reader.

Critics are capable of reading inter alia (between the lines) as they prepare their magnum opus. Incipit (it begins, it starts) is a literary term much in vogue. It is much more professorial than “opening pages” because it hints at some analytic insight or ingenious interpretation of that beginning. Rather than using a realistic chronological narrative, an author might choose to begin in the middle, in medias res. When a play ends with an incredible, implausible, but happy ending, critics calls it a deus ex machina (the god descending in a machine or stage device). In eighteenth-century opera, which delighted in such denouements, a god in a chariot would descend from the “heavens” (the fly area above the stage) and resolve by fiat (let it be so) the intrigue’s many complications. As a literary genre, comedy was assigned a high moral purpose because, supposedly, it corrected bad behavior with its corrosive laughter, castigat ridendo mores. Dramatis personae is a synonym for a the cast of characters, usually in a play. When a poet writes a poem in which he reveals his particular poetic practice and philosophy, it is considered an ars poetica. The orator Cicero denounced the lax morals of his time. Like him, intellectuals exclaim O tempora! O mores! to make a general but imprecise criticism of behavior they deplore. Mores, of course, is a totally Americanized synonym for cultural practices or social morals. Pedantic professors sometimes overuse apparently common words that are in fact literally taken from Latin. Verbatim is more common than its symmetrical partner literatim (written word for word). Lacuna or lacunae (we use the correct Latin plural) reveal the absences or missing parts of an argument. The Freudian lapsus comes directly from Latin with no change in meaning or form: we avoid the plural and so never have to choose between lapsuses or lapsi.

Even a dead language that is alive can have some dead spots that had been popular, not unsurprisingly, with professors and pedants. Some of you, I am sure, are old enough to remember all those Latin words needed for bibliographies. First in line on our forgotten list is the old favorite, op cit (opus citatus: the work already cited) which was employed for the second and all subsequent references to one item. Quite simply, it sent us back to the original full entry. Similarly, ibid told us the reference went back only to the previous entry. Both op cit and ibid avoided repeating, that is to say, retyping the whole entry. Their value for a writer disappeared with the advent of computer enabled cut-and-paste. A more serious shortcoming was, of course, that you could never remember what those previous details in a far-off footnote actually were. One word specially beloved of pedants was vide (see) followed by the name of an author or a book. This imperative verb form meant check this out, look this up. It was a quick way to avoid the clumsy footnote format that op cit and ibid thrived upon. If you chose not to indicate precise page numbers, you could just add passim (here and there; all around). A trio of scholarly terms indicate when an author is providing, parenthetically, an example or extra bit of information: viz (namely), i.e. (id est: that is), and e.g. (exempli gratia). Nota bene (note this well) adds emphasis to what has just been stated. It does not announce a footnote but highlights what has just been stated in the main text. Similar to ibid, idem means the same as before, like ditto marks. Example: The supermarket is losing money on its frozen foods; idem for fresh fruits and vegetables. Another way to say the same all over again or the same as before is redux: he is his father redux. The locus classicus indicated the most well-known or widely recognized place or source for information. Today it would be the first entry on your Google search, as determined by their algorithims and not by a scholar’s memory of the classics.

Not to be outdone by letters, science has given us the term quantum (the neuter form of quantus, how much or many). Quantum physics or quantum theory deal with those mysteries of nature that are hard to describe or measure, the worlds of Einstein and Planck, the enigma of light (i.e., whether it is composed of rays or particles) and the theory that energy is diffused discontinuously in units called quanta. It is a popular adjective and so we have quantum chromodynamics, quantum number, and quantum leaps or jumps.

The neuter form of the second declension has slipped into English a whole series of somewhat uncommon (at least in the past) nouns ending in -um whose meaning has not changed much if at all: aquarium, arboretum, sanitarium, simulacrum, gymnasium, emporium, desideratum, podium, referendum, and many others. In the plural we have errata (singular erratum, a wandering off or error), which is the list of typos, misprints, or other corrections slipped into a book when a publisher doesn’t want to reprint the whole volume. Stadium deserves some discussion here. In Latin it is a unit of measurement, approximately 600 feet, for race tracks. By metonymy, the word came to designate the edifice that contains such a race track.

The medieval church has bequeathed us a number of Latinisms. This is not surprising since Latin was the liturgical language of the Catholic Church up until the 1960s. Ecclesiastics gave permission to authors to publish their books with the word imprimatur (let it be printed). Today we give our imprimatur to those things we approve. Nihil obstat is a related phrase: nothing stands in the way, nothing is blocking publication so the imprimatur may be granted. Books or writings that are not accepted as orthodox are called apocrypha. In February 2010 a repentant Tiger Woods delivered his mea culpa to the golf world in a televised press conference. Requiescat in pace is the ritual phase at funeral services. RIP might refer to this Latin motto or its English equivalent, “rest in peace.” Memento mori is one point where medical, artistic, and religious vocabularies overlap: these “reminders of death” are staples in classical paintings that encourage us to reflect piously upon our own inevitable death. A vanitas is one of its sub-genres. In the full Biblical phrase vanitas vanitorum (“vanity of vanities, and all is vanity”), the Hebrew prophet denounced those who forgot real virtues in favor of transitory, temporary values like youth and beauty. In Memoriam serves as a poetic title and a funerary inscription, combining the sorrow of loss with the affirmation of remembering. Memorabilia is a neuter plural adjective meaning “worthy of being remembered.” De profundis is the title and initial line of a psalm and a liturgical text. It is used metaphorically to describe the passage from a moral or physical nadir to a triumphant recovery. Almost every religion has a sanctum sanctorum, a place that it considers special because it is holy. Individuals often have a private place, “a room of one’s own” (as Virginia Woolf said) that we call their (inner) sanctum. The principles and ideas that govern our daily behavior can be considered our personal credo (I believe). Deo gratias (thanks be to God) was once the response when a devout person heard good news. Today we hear an echo of it in the exclamation “Praise God!” Such an individual might end her correspondence with a simple Pax (peace) or in pace. The former term has a political significance too. When a single country establishes its hegemony over a large portion of the planet, we call that an imperium. One of the most famous examples of such supremacy, the Roman empire, is more kindly known as the pax Romana. Later the term designated Great Britain and the empire upon which the sun never set. That pax Britannica gave way to the current pax Americana. The Latin really just guilds the lily: there is precious little peace in any of these world dominations. Pax however sounds so much more beneficent than “empire,” which, since Star Wars and Ronald Regan’s sound bite, almost automatically evokes the modifier “evil.” In pace should not be confused with pace all alone. The latter is merely a polite formula for dismissing criticisms: “Pace all my detractors, I will continue to implement the same policies.” In the late middle ages, an in pace (the prepositional phrase used as a noun) designated the deepest and darkest dungeon where unruly and obstreperous prisoners were placed until they calmed down and found some peace. Many old churches in Europe have ex votos (according to a vow) on their walls. These are candles or plaques commemorating loved ones who have passed on. They are placed in the church to fulfill a vow or promise. Index is the Latin word for … index, as in the Index Librorum Prohibitorum, the list of books that Catholics were once forbidden to read. English has pluralized some Latin singulars like bona fide (in good faith), the proof or evidence one offers to prove competence or good character. A dictum (what was said) is a pithy saying, often a proverb or old saw. Any pronouncement made ex cathedra (from out of the chair) is intended for the public. Usually it involves a bishop speaking out on an issue from his cathedral, his seat of ecclesiastical power. Private news is given in camera (in the room) and thus describes information that is restricted to a chosen few. The camera obscura is a late Victorian gadget, a darkened box into which an image could be projected by back lighting. It was the precursor and namesake of today’s photo and movie cameras.

The French philosopher Descartes, writing in Latin, summarized his rationalism in the phrase Cogito ergo sum. We reduce it further, with no loss of meaning, when we talk of the cogito. We have so internalized these words that we can pun and joke with them. I knew a coffee shop that advertised itself with the clever “I drink therefore I am.” Philosophers like the term qua which is the feminine ablative case of qui or who, and it means “in the capacity or character of.” Phenomenologists debate the essence of matter qua matter, i.e. matter considered as matter, whatever that means or if it really matters. Philosophers also like the word quale or its plural qualia (neuter forms of qualis, of what kind), which refers to a property experienced independently of its source in a physical object. A writer in the New York Review of Books (23 June 2011, p. 68) defined it as “a qualitative subjective experience, like seeing red.”

Ego is Latin for “I”, the first person singular pronoun. We use it to indicate an individual’s exaggerated self-esteem. Freud took it over to mean the social consciousness, the law-abiding part of ourselves that is in constant struggle with the id (the neuter pronoun “it”), the unnamed, unidentified, uncontrolled part of us that struggles against the ego. We might recognize ourselves in another psychological term that is literal Latin, alter ego.

Our justice system speaks Latin fluently. Police dramas on TV refer to a criminal’s MO, for modus operandi (usual way of behaving). This is not to be confused with our perfectly legal way of living, our modus vivendi. Being non compos mentis is a legal defense that might mitigate a crime. We all know that habeas corpus protects us from secret incarceration. The phase is incomplete, however. The full sentence in Latin reads “you must have the body … for presentation before a magistrate.” An amicus curiae (friend of the court) is a brief submitted to a judge in support of one of the litigants before him. When lawyers work pro bono they usually do it gratis. Cui bono asks a tough question that is appropriate in determining motive: to whose advantage is this? Who profits from it? This pithy expression initiates a search for hidden but crucial motivations behind what might at first seem innocent and innocuous. We will see later bonus as an extra something good.

When we get nasty and bad-mouth someone we indulge in ad hominen criticism, even if he is a she. Women, by the way, often find that homo sapiens (intelligent man) is an oxymoron and not an anthropological category referring to all humans. Despite their failings, men acknowledge the positive role of women in education through their affection for their alma mater. Paterfamilias is an honorific that ennobles the head of a large and influential family. Positive and affectionate, it is not appropriate for the ruthless progenitor, let us say the godfather, of a would-be dynasty. Hopping back to school, in loco parentis is a now discredited idea that educators ought to exercise the authority of parents when the latter are absent. Ipso facto is something that is self-evident and demands no explanation. Ipso facto reminds me of ipse dixit (he himself says so). If you need to invoke an authority to sustain your opinion, just add an ipse dixit. Without identifying who ipse is, you appeal to your interlocutor’s worst fears of the boss, the teacher, the spouse, et cetera.

Historians find that Latin can provide useful words and concepts for their studies. Art historians especially write about an annus mirabilis (the magnificent year) like 1914 which saw Kandinski’s “Nude descending a staircase”, the New York Armory show, Diagilef’s Ballets Russes. Marcel Proust began publishing the first book of his Remembrance of Things Past while André Gide’s Les Caves du Vatican appeared that same year. James Joyce published his short story collection, Dubliners, and William Butler Yeats’ volume of poems Responsibilities appeared in 1914 too. Unfortunately we also have to deal with an annus horribilus from time to time, when disasters seem to multiply like the military defeats for the Western powers in 1915 or the stock market crash of 1929. Two sports writers successfully used the idea of an annus mirabilis although neither actually used that term. Roger Kahn’s The Boys of Summer centered on Jackie Robinson and the 1947 World Series Champion Brooklyn Dodgers. David Halberstam chose October 1964 as his focus for the pennant races and the World Series face-off between Mickey Mantle’s New York Yankees and Bob Gibson’s Saint Louis Cardinals.

Historians often study an interregnum (plural interregna or interregnums) which is the break, often chaotic, between two legitimate reigns. They always want to know what the status quo is. From there they might move on to the status quo ante (the situation that prevailed previously). The terminus ad quem is the end point in a sequence of events. They can complicate things by evoking the terminus ad quem ante which is the end before that end; the terminus ab quo indicates a former end point and continues on from there, a new beginning so to speak. Let’s keep it simple, however, and not talk about any a posteriori events. Vox populi, vox dei (the voice of the people, the voice of God) used to be a cliché for historians; today, it seems like a dangerous conflation of demagogic populism and religious fanaticism.

Unfortunately for my simplistic categories, some words migrate into English a bit erratically. Animus (spirit or soul) has come to mean hatred or enmity. Bonus is the Latin adjective for “good.” In English it is a noun referring to a cash reward or any supplement to your salary, which is good indeed. Its rhyming opposite is onus, originally meaning a burden, which became blame in English. Formulae is a correct Latin plural that is acceptable in English even if we more usually say “formulas.” We must pay careful attention to small details that have become fuzzy in transition, since meaning can turn on a single letter. Although both terms were originally identical, anti signifies against, as in anti-Communist; ante means before, as in the ante-bellum South. (That’s a bonus: two Latin words together.) Please don’t ask me to explain “antipasto.”

Nolens, volens (intentionally or not), I have not included any of the longer phrases or full sentences in Latin that have entered primarily our written discourse. We might hear them, but more frequently we read them. In either case, they are rather familiar. Et tu Brute is the ultimate riposte to betrayal by a quondam or former friend. Unfortunately the classical allusion is too erudite for the trashy scandal sheets that are dedicated to reporting such shenanigans. Sic transit gloria mundi is occasionally shortened to sic transit and then followed by whatever is judged to be so temporary. As an explanation or defense for his act, John Wilkes Booth shouted sic semper tyrannis after assassinating Lincoln. Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes (I fear Greeks bearing gifts) might be mistaken today for a gratuitous slap at one nationality and not a classical allusion to Virgil. In rhetorical terms, it is a chiasmus: four words precisely balanced around the fulcrum of “and,” the equal sign. As in the mathematical formula by which the product of the means equals the product of the extremes, the first and last terms are very similar (both are verbs), the two middle ones nouns in the same accusative case. Besides all that, this neat phrase suggests that we are skeptical and suspicious. If we are totally nonplussed by the choices some one else makes, we might comment De gustibus non disputandem (you can’t argue about taste), often shortened to simply de gustibus and a knowing shrug of the shoulders. The medieval theologian Tertullian’s famous and often misunderstood phrase Credo quia absurdam (I believe it because it is impossible) captures nicely the problem of faith and reason, how to reconcile beliefs and the rational contradictions they can provoke. Gladiators greeted the Emperor as they strode into the Coliseum before their fight unto death with the words Nos morituri te salutamus (We who are soon to die salute you). This combination of courage and fatalism sounds like the send-off for a suicide mission in our current action films that mix mayhem and histrionics. If we remember our high school geometry, quod erat demonstrandum (what was to be proven) marked the successful solution to a problem. We drop QED into our conversation when we want to show emphatically that we have just provided the necessary answer. No further discussion required. QED. Slam dunk. Someone who is unique, unusual, outstanding can be deemed a rara avis (a rare bird). The ultimate in any field of endeavor is the nec plus ultra. Sub specie aeternitatis (in its eternal form) is the perfect, immutable, everlasting result every artist seeks. Engravers used to etch their name in a lower corner of their work followed by fecit (he made this).

Tempus fugit (time flies) and I have little of it left. It seems I have been talking ad infinitum (without end); some of you might opine ad nauseam (to the point of provoking sickness). Ad extremum, in either case, as they did for those old Hollywood films, here I write finis.