“All cats are creatures understanding French,” said Alice’s
father. “And some chickens are cats.” “Wait, I know!” said
Alice, chirruping. “That means that some chickens are creatures
understanding French.”1 “What you said is true, my dear,” said
Alice’s father, his voice full of pride. What Alice said was
true. As true as any another truth, too. True as true can be.
But it would still be a mistake for Alice, even if she ventured
through the looking glass, to announce triumphantly that “It is
true that some chickens are creatures understanding French!”
That would be to say what is false, or rather it would be to say
a nonsensical thing. Which was Alice’s father’s specialty.
Nonsense of a special sort, that is. For if you haven’t guessed,
Alice’s father is Charles Dodgson, a.k.a. Lewis Carroll. Dodgson
published several— —Wait! Hold on. Skip the biography. Didn’t I
just say that what Alice first said was true? How can it be that
her second phrase, identical to the first, is not true? Well,
her second phrase was