'If the serpent is called in Sanskrit _sarpa_, it is because it was conceived under the general idea of creeping, an idea expressed by the word _srip_. But the serpent was also called _ahi_ in Sanskrit, in Greek _echis_ or _echidna_, in Latin _anguis_. This name is derived from quite a different root and idea. The root is _ah_ in Sanskrit, or _anh_, which means to press together, to choke, to throttle. Here the distinguishing mark from which the serpent was named was his throttling, and _ahi_ meant serpent, as expressing the general idea of throttler. It is a curious root this _anh_, and it still lives in several modern words. In Latin it appears as _ango_, _anxi_, _anctum_, to strangle, in _angina_, quinsy, in _angor_, suffocation. But _angor_ meant not only quinsy or compression of the neck; it assumed a moral import, and signifies anguish or anxiety. The two adjectives _angustus_, narrow, and _anxius_, uneasy, both come from the same source. In Greek the root retained its natural and material meaning; in _eggys_, near, and _echis_, serpent, throttler. But in Sanskrit it was chosen with great truth as the proper name for sin. Evil no doubt presented itself under various aspects to the human mind, and its names are many; but none so expressive as those derived from our root _anh_, to throttle. _Anhas_ in Sanskrit means sin, but it does so only because it meant originally throttling--the consciousness of sin being like the grasp of the assassin on the throat of his victim ... This _anhas_ is the same word as the Greek _agos_, sin ... The English _anguish_ is from the French _angoisse_, the Italian _angoscia_, a corruption of the Latin _angustiae_, a strait ... _Ma_ in Sanskrit means to measure, from which we had the name of the moon. _Man_, a derivative root, means to think. From this we have the Sanskrit _manu_, originally thinker, then man. In the later Sanskrit we find derivatives, such as _manava_, _manusha_, _manushya_, all expressing man. In Gothic we find both _man_ and _mannisks_, the modern German _mann_ and _mensch_.' And now we are brought by the author of _The Science of Language_ to the great question to which the foregoing is merely preparatory, to the fundamental consideration of Philological research: 'How can sound express thought? How did roots become the signs of general ideas? How was the abstract idea of measuring expressed by _ma_, the idea of thinking by _man_? How did _ga_ come to mean going, _stha_ standing, _sad_ sitting, _da_ giving, _mar_ dying, _char_ walking, _kar_ doing?' Here is his answer: