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语法化
词汇成分固化为语法标记。
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How do languages say “there is”?
“The water is in the river” takes the water as given and tells you where it is. “There is water in the river” reverses that: the river is the setting and the water is the news. Saying that something exists therefore reuses the machinery for saying where it is, and languages differ in how much they change along the way — some leave the locational predicate untouched, some add a placeholder subject, some borrow the possessive verb, and some keep a predicate for existence alone. The choice often splits by animacy and by number.
How do languages say “I have X”?
Some languages use a transitive HAVE verb; others say “at me, X is”, “to me, X is”, or “I-with X”. The same language often switches strategy with what is possessed — inanimate, animate, kin, body-parts.
How do languages build the paradigm of someone, anyone, no one, and everyone?
Most often these words share one interrogative base (who?) plus a small particle — “also”, “every”, “some”, “any” — that sets the reading. A few languages, English among them, lexicalise the series instead.
How does a language say an action was done for someone?
English hangs a beneficiary on the end of the clause with “for”, or slips it in front of the object: cook a meal for her, cook her a meal. Elsewhere the verb itself carries the news. Swahili adds a suffix to the verb, Tagalog rebuilds the clause around the person who profits, and across East and Southeast Asia, as in parts of West Africa, a second verb meaning “give” follows the first. Japanese splits that second verb several ways, so one act of cooking is worded differently depending on who ends up better off — and uses the passive when the answer is nobody.
What goes with a number to count a thing?
English puts a number straight in front of most nouns — three books, three dogs — and only reaches for an extra word when the noun resists counting: three sheets of paper, two head of cattle. Across East and Southeast Asia that extra word is required for ordinary countable things, and which one you pick depends on what the thing is. Japanese counts books with 冊, sheets with 枚 and pencils with 本. Bantu languages do a comparable job from the other end, making the numeral agree with the class the noun already belongs to. Most of these counting words are nouns caught partway through a change: Indonesian ekor is a tail, Vietnamese cây a tree, Thai khon a person.
How does negation rebuild itself over time?
A preverbal negator weakens and is reinforced by an extra element, often a minimizer like “step” or “thing”. The reinforcer is reanalysed as the negator itself, then weakens in turn, and the cycle starts again.
How does a word for “there is no” turn into plain “not”?
A dedicated negative existential (“there is no X”) arises beside the ordinary negator, then spreads from existential sentences into verbal negation until it becomes the standard negator itself. Croft distinguishes six synchronic types — A, A~B, B, B~C, C, C~A — and the languages below sit at different points along the drift.
How does “I have it written” turn into an ordinary past tense?
Latin habeō litterās scrīptās means “I have the letter in a written state” — a description of how the letter is now. That sentence became French j’ai écrit la lettre, which reports the writing rather than the letter, and in speech it is now the plain past: the old simple past has gone out of use. The same road runs from Old Japanese -tari to modern -ta. English started down it and stopped: have written is still a perfect, and cannot be used with yesterday.
How does “see” come to mean “try”?
Verbs of seeing repeatedly become markers of attempting. Japanese 食べてみる “eat and see”, Korean 먹어 보다, Mandarin 試試看, and the Turkic converb + kör- constructions all say “do it and see” for “try doing it”; Voinov (2013) traces the co-lexification across Eurasia, New Guinea, India, and West Africa.