makes a word.
2. (phrase) “I came, I saw, I conquered.” —Julius Caesar
3. (chiefly obsolete) Aye.
4. (in literature) “Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but ay, and that bare vowel I shall poison more than the death-darting eye of cockatrice. I am not I, if there be such an ay, or those eyes shut, that makes thee answer ay.” —William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, III.ii.45–49. The wordplay here is on I, ay, and eye.
5. (in literature) “I, deep reds, spit blood, laughter of beautiful lips/In anger or in drunkenness and penitence.” —Arthur Rimbaud, “Vowels”
6. (in literature) “I is the first letter of the alphabet, the first word of the language, the first thought of the mind, the first object of affection.” —Ambrose Bierce, Collected Writings
7. (in literature) “And now I see the face of god, and I raised this god over the earth, this god whom men have sought since men came into being, this god who will grant them joy and peace and pride. This god, this one word: ‘I.’” —Ayn Rand, Anthem
8. (in literature) “I…how huge a word in that small English mark, the shape of a Grecian pillar.” —William H. Gass, The Tunnel
9. (in literature) “I is the war machine launching a projectile.” —Victor Hugo, quoted in ABZ by Mel Gooding
10. n. A written representation of the letter.
If a one letter word is found for a ciphertext of a formal English message, it is obvious that the letter is either an I or an A. —Al Court, An Introduction to Cryptography. In fact, this claim is false, as this dictionary proves.
When a schoolteacher writes “I” on a blackboard and asks the students what they see, most of them will answer that they see the word “I.” It’s rare for someone to say “I see a blackboard with ‘I’ written on it.” Just as the relatively huge blackboard is ignored in favor of a single letter, we ignore the Awareness that is the permanent background to all phenomena.” —Leo Hartong, Awakening to the Dream
11. n. A device, such as a printer’s type, for reproducing the letter.
LOOKING OUT FOR NUMBER ONE
12. n. The ego, self.
The ego, that whole construct we so easily name “I,” also has its less than appealing needs. —Thomas Moore, Care of the Soul
The words that really matter in the English language are the little words, and the shorter the word the greater its significance, it seems. The most important word in our language is a one-letter word. I is the supreme example of the importance of short words. Not only is it a single letter, but it is always a capital letter. It stands symmetrical and alone, head and shoulders above almost all other words in a written sentence. I is the most commonly used word in everyday speech. I is the point from which we see and experience the world. It is the subject of the sentence, and me, the objective case of I, is a two-letter word that is not far behind in significance. —Dr. Michael Houseley, Medical Post
13. n. An especially egotistic person who uses the first person pronoun excessively. He’s just a big I.
14. n. A dichotomous part of one’s self. the other I What a lot of phenomenological ambitions would be necessary to uncover the “I” of different states corresponding to different narcotics! At the very least, it would be necessary to classify these “I’s” in three species: the “I” of sleep—if it exists; the “I” of the narcosis—if it retains any value as individuality; the “I” of reverie, maintained in such vigilance that it can permit itself the happiness of writing…. Is there an “I” which assumes these multiple “I’s”? An “I” of all these “I’s” which has the mastery of our whole being, of all our intimate beings? Novalis writes: [“The supreme task of culture is to take possession of its transcendental self, to be at once the I of its I.”] If the “I’s” vary in tonality of being, where is