Some 4.5 billion years ago, give or take a year, a dwarf star spit out a planet called Earth. Some 4 billion 200 million years ago, the first cell took a sip of sea broth and liked it. Then the first cell divided in two, so it would have someone to offer a drink. Some 4 million years ago and a bit, woman and man, all but apes, rose up on their legs and embraced, and for the first time experienced the joy and panic of looking into each other’s eyes while doing so. Some 450,000 years ago, woman and man struck two stones together and lit the first fire, which helped them to battle fear and cold. Some 300,000 years ago, woman and man spoke the first words and believed they understood each other. And there we are still: wanting to be two, dying of fear, dying of cold, searching for words.

—Eduardo Galeano, Voices of Time: A Life in Stories

If memory serves, I previously quoted Galeano on the subject of refrigerator magnets and their seminal role in human history and home decorating. Today, I quote Galeano on a different subject, although it’s not entirely clear exactly what that subject is. Next week, to complete the Galeano Trifecta, perhaps I’ll see if I can discern the man’s views on the pending presidential election. My hunch is that he’s an Obama man.

Galeano is not the first writer to have noted the frequent inadequacy of language to convey information. Gustave Flaubert said, “Language is like a cracked kettle on which we beat out tunes to dance to, while all the time we long to move the stars to pity.”

Actually, it was Flaubert’s Madame Bovary who said it, and she said it in French, which is a popular language much like English, only Frenchier. And while it’s true that language is often inadequate to express certain feelings or thoughts, it’s also true that words often convey something beyond their literal meanings.

For example, we all know what a dormitory is. If you scramble the letters of the word you get “dirty room,” which seems to be more than just an amusing coincidence. Likewise, if you rearrange the letters of the word “‘astronomer” you get “moon starer.” Taking that fascinating concept one step further, if you rearrange the letters in the phrase “eleven plus two” you get “twelve plus one,” both of which equal 13, or as the French say, “Les Thirteen.”

Finally, have you ever noticed that if you scramble the letters of the word “Elvis” you get “lives?” I know, eerie and very French.

Over the years, many popular comedians have made a good living intentionally mangling the English language for comic effect. Jimmy Durante, Norm Crosby and George Bush have all used the English language as though their tongues were saws and English words were wooden planks.

The more one studies the nuances of the English language the odder it seems. For example, did you realize that there is no synonym for the word “thesaurus?” Or that the word “balloonneer” is the only English word with four sets of double letters in a row?

What do you make of the fact that no word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver or purple? Or that the letters “ough” can be pronounced in eight different ways as the following sentence demonstrates: “A rough-coated, dough-faced ploughman strode through the streets of Scarborough, coughing and hiccoughing thoughtfully.” We all know that last thing to happen is the ultimate. Many of us know that the next to last is the penultimate. But how many of us know that the second-to-last thing is the antepenultimate?

The study of insects is called “entomology,” while the study of word origins is called “etymology?” Any idea what the word is for the study of insect name origins? Me neither. Did you know the symbol on the “pound” key (#) is called an octothorpe? I didn’t. And finally, give yourself a pat on the back if you knew that the “ZIP” in Zip code stands for “Zone Improvement Plan.”

Time to say goodbye for now, or, as they say in France, “Ciao Amigo!”

Tom Tyner writes a weekly humor column for this newspaper. This is from his “Classic’s Files” written years ago.