{"id":670,"date":"2020-04-02T12:20:50","date_gmt":"2020-04-02T12:20:50","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/space.xtemos.com\/demo\/juno\/?p=670"},"modified":"2020-10-08T09:43:41","modified_gmt":"2020-10-08T09:43:41","slug":"book-review-examples","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/space.xtemos.com\/demo\/juno\/2020\/04\/02\/book-review-examples\/","title":{"rendered":"Book review examples"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Richard McClintock, a Latin scholar from Hampden-Sydney College, is credited with discovering the source behind the ubiquitous filler text. In seeing a sample of lorem ipsum<\/em>, his interest was piqued by consectetur<\/em>\u2014a genuine, albeit rare, Latin word. Consulting a Latin dictionary led McClintock to a passage from De Finibus Bonorum et Malorum<\/em> (\u201cOn the Extremes of Good and Evil\u201d), a first-century B.C. text from the Roman philosopher Cicero.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNeque porro quisquam est, qui dolorem ipsum<\/em> quia dolor sit amet, consectetur, adipisci velit, sed<\/em> quia non numquam eius modi tempora incidunt ut labore et dolore magnam aliquam quaerat voluptatem. Nor is there anyone who loves or pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself, because it is pain, but occasionally circumstances occur in which toil and pain can procure him some great pleasure. \u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Until recently, the prevailing view assumed lorem ipsum<\/em> was born as a nonsense text. \u201cIt’s not Latin, though it looks like it, and it actually says nothing,\u201d Before & After<\/em> magazine answered a curious reader<\/a>, \u201cIts \u2018words\u2019 loosely approximate the frequency with which letters occur in English, which is why at a glance it looks pretty real.\u201d As Cicero would put it, \u201cUm, not so fast.\u201d The placeholder text, beginning with the line \u201cLorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit\u201d<\/em>, looks like Latin because in its youth, centuries ago, it was Latin. In particular, the garbled words of lorem ipsum<\/em> bear an unmistakable resemblance to sections of Cicero’s work, with the most notable passage excerpted below:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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And anyways, as Cecil Adams reasoned<\/a>, \u201c[Do you really] think graphic arts supply houses were hiring classics scholars in the 1960s?\u201d Perhaps. But it seems reasonable to imagine that there was a version in use far before the age of Letraset. McClintock wrote to Before & After<\/em> to explain his discovery. As an alternative theory<\/a>, (and because Latin scholars do this sort of thing) someone tracked down a 1914 Latin edition of De Finibus<\/em> which challenges McClintock’s 15th century claims and suggests that the dawn of lorem ipsum<\/em> was as recent as the 20th century. The 1914 Loeb Classical Library Edition ran out of room on page 34 for the Latin phrase \u201cdolorem ipsum\u201d (sorrow in itself). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing of a pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system, and expound the actual teachings of the great explorer of the truth, the master-builder of human happiness. No one rejects, dislikes, or avoids pleasure itself, because it is pleasure, but because those who do not know how to pursue pleasure rationally encounter consequences that are extremely painful. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So how did the classical Latin become so incoherent? According to McClintock, a 15th century typesetter likely scrambled part of Cicero’s De Finibus<\/em> in order to provide placeholder text to mockup various fonts for a type specimen book.<\/p>\n\n\n\n