verb (used without object)
to flee or depart suddenly, especially without having paid one's bills.
Scarper, “to flee or depart suddenly,” originated in a British argot, likely Polari, and probably comes from Italian scappare “to flee,” which is related to English escape (compare French échapper). The ultimate origin appears to be from a Vulgar Latin verb reconstructed as excappāre, based on Latin ex “out of, from” and Late Latin cappa “hooded cloak, cape.” For another example of Polari’s influence on English, see the recent Word of the Day busk. Scarper was first recorded in English in the late 1840s.
But thwart a young rat’s zeal for play (by rearing it alone or with drugged companions that won’t play) and you create an adult that loses its cool in social situations. When things start getting edgy, play-deprived rats either succumb to rat-rage or scarper, quaking, to a corner.”
When [the giant peach] disappears they have to scarper, off to America on the Queen Mary, though since they apparently haven’t yet collected on all the money they thought was coming their way, it’s a mystery how they can afford it.
Pensée, “a thought,” is a loanword from French, in which it is the past participle of the verb penser “to think.” Penser derives from Latin pēnsāre, of the same meaning, which in turn comes from pendere “to hang”—similar to the English expression “have hanging over (one’s) head,” namely, when a persistent thought causes fear and anxiety. Pendere has two stems in English: the first is pend-, as in pendulum, suspend, and the recent Word of the Day spendthrift, and the second stem is pens-, as in compensate, expensive, and pension. Pensée was first recorded in English in the late 1880s.
The phone rings incessantly, and James, never losing his aplomb, dashes to answer it between lifting lids and turning, in his faded blue dress shirt and undersized, black owl glasses, to share a morsel of gossip or a pensée about his latest book, a collection of photographs titled, simply, Paris.
“Life is a hospital where each patient is driven by the desire to change beds.” Such a pensée fits with the French moralist tradition of Montaigne, Pascal and La Rochefoucauld, yet Baudelaire always regarded Edgar Allan Poe, whom he translated, as his spiritual brother.
Osculate, “to kiss,” comes from the Latin verb ōsculārī “to kiss,” which is based on the noun ōsculum “kiss” or, literally, “little mouth.” Ōsculum comprises ōs (stem ōr-) “mouth” and -culum, a diminutive suffix that we learned about last week from the Word of the Day canicular. Ōs is the source of oral and orifice but not of any word for “mouth” in modern Romance languages; the likely reason for this is confusion between ōs and the similar-sounding os (stem oss-) “bone,” which is the source of Italian/Portuguese osso and Spanish hueso. With os winning this phonetic battle, Latin bucca “cheek” eventually evolved into modern Romance words for “mouth,” such as French bouche, Italian bocca, and Portuguese and Spanish boca. Osculate was first recorded in English in the 1650s.
For those cultures that do osculate, however, kissing conveys additional hidden messages.
Few things are more enjoyable than a good kiss, but I’d turn down any offer to osculate.