[1] The world is generally governed by words and shows: for men
can swallow the same thing under one name, which they would
abominate and detest under another. The name of king was to
the old Romans odious and insufferable; but in Sulla and
Julius Cæsar they could endure the power and absoluteness
of a king, disguised under the name of dictator.--_South,_
1633-1716.
I think that one of the master incantations, one of the
most signal deceits, which we practise upon ourselves,
comes from the use of language. There are words that we
learn in childhood which we abandon when we come to
manhood. Generally speaking, our fireside words are old
Saxon words--short, knotty, tough, and imbued with moral
and affectional meanings; but as we grow older these words
are too rude and plain for our use, and so we get Latin
terms and periphrases by which to express many of our
thoughts. When we talk about ourselves we almost invariably
use Latin words, and when we talk about our neighbours we
use Saxon words. And one of the best things a man can do, I
think, is to examine himself in the Saxon tongue. If a man
tells that which is contrary to truth, let him not say, "I
equivocate;" let him say "I lie." _Lie!_ why, it brings the
judgment-day right home to a man's thought. Men do not like
it, but it is exactly the thing that will most effectually
touch the moral sense; and the more the moral sense is
touched the better. If a man has departed from rectitude in
his dealings with another, let him not say "I took
advantage," which is a roundabout, long sentence: let him
say, _"I cheated."_ That is a very direct word. It springs
straight to the conscience, as the arrow flies from the bow
to the centre of the mark. Does it grate harshly on your
ear? Nevertheless, it is better that you should employ it;
and you should come to this determination: "I will call
things that I detect in my conduct by those clear-faced,
rough-tongued words that my enemies use if they wanted to
sting me to the quick."--_Beecher._