Humpty Dumpty and the temper of verbs

When I was two years old, my mother sewed me a Humpty Dumpty doll (red-striped pants, black slippers, a pleasing egg face) and sat him upon my birthday cake, among the candles.  My mother's Humpty Dumpty remains with me today, atop a cabinet of curiosities, a little watermarked and a little saggy, loved by time. (The Humpty pictured here was photographed a few months ago at the Please Touch Museum.)



Lately I've been thinking about Humpty, particularly the Humpty we meet in Lewis Carroll's Th...