A word is the sound of a sentiment.

A word is the sound of a sentiment.

A dog sees a squirrel and barks. We don’t imagine that the barking sound is literally dog for ‘squirrel’, but we probably understand that the sound is somehow an expression of what the dog is feeling (prompted by the squirrel).

And so it is with humans. The word ‘chair’ is the vocalisation of the feeling ‘chair’ which we learn, and refine, over the course of our lives. Parents bark ‘get down from there!’ or ‘sit still!’ at their children, shaping the 'chair' feeling.

All our words are feeling words. Each corresponds to a sophisticated sentiment. We speak without thinking, precisely because we are speaking with feeling.

When you and I say the word ‘chair’, we know that beneath the sound, there are differences in our experiences – our feelings – towards chairs. But if we share a culture, there is enough overlap in our sentiments to make our communication meaningful.

You say ‘how was your holiday?’ and I make a series of sounds which string sentiments together like pearls on a string – a story, in other words. I say ‘beach’, you feel ‘beach’ - and so on.

All language is sentimental, but today we don’t see it for what it is.

Image: Elena Buzmakova