Theory of "Everything"

Fellow physics nerds, if you came here looking to think about the actual Theory of Everything in physics, I’ve got you.

For everyone else, let’s talk about everything.

Everything is, of course, two distinct words: every and thing. These words first merged together during Old English times, when it became convenient to have a single word to describe all of the types of objects or ideas.

Every existed as a standalone word, but it was actually a fairly new combination of two earlier words—ever and each. Ever was similar to how we use it today—something continuous, for all time. The word for each functioned similarly to our modern each, but it was spelled ǣlc—something like aehhh elk, maybe.

So, ever each meant each thing, forever. In the same way that forever refers to all of the time, ever each came to mean all of the eaches. Ever each was a mouthful, so that became every.

Thing is its own thing, with its own unique story. Back during Old English times, it was spelled þing—but pronounced pretty much like today’s thing.

A thing was an assembly that took place in public, where important matters were discussed. Over time, people began to expand this definition to mean a matter of public concern. “Let’s go discuss this at the thing” became “let’s discuss this thing”, and linguistic drift took care of the rest.

There’s one more intriguing layer to thing. Those important assemblyfolk who met were there to really think about a problem. Think and thing come from the same PIE root word, so think about that thing for a few moments.

Geoffrey Chaucer probably helped to popularize the useful combo of every and thing, writing in The Canterbury Tales in the late 1300s. Much earlier than that, you’d have to say something like “every each thing.”

That’s everything I have to say on this subject at the moment.