Fundamental Studiesin Computer Science

T ' ' / rLlngulstlcStructures Processing

Advisoty Roard: edited byJ. F€ldman, R Karp, L. Nolin, M.o. Rabin, J.c. Shepher&on,A. vsn d€r sluis aIId P. wesner ANTONIO ZAMPOLLI

Dircctor of Lingußtics Diyisiott,CNUCE - Institute of ltalian Natienat Research Councit rcNR)

VOLUME 5

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NORTH.HOLLAND PUBLISHING COMPANY NORTH.HOLLAND PUBLISHING COMPANYAMSTERDAM . NEW YORK. OXFORD AMSTERDAM . NEW YORK . OXFORD

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Scenes-and-frames semantics

Charles J. Fillmore

University of Berkeley, Califumia

0.I think that everyone. in linguistics and language research sees a need for anintegrated vipw oflanguage structure, language behavior, language"comprehensfun, language change, and language acq-uisition. I suspect thatwhat strikes me as the current Zeitgeist in language research offers materialto meet this need, though some of it is still somewhat hidden; and I keepgetting the feeling that sooner or later it is going to be possible for workersin linguistic semantics, anthropotogical semantics, cognitive psychology,and artificial intelligence - and may be even language philosphy - to talk toeach other using more or less the same language, and thinking about moreor less the same problems.

l .One of the live issues making up part of this Zeitgeist is the question ofwhether the description of meaning strould be formulated as a checklist -

that is, as a list of conditionsthat must be satisfied in order for a giventinguistic expression to be appropriately and/or truthfully used - orwhether the analysis of meaning requires, at least in some cases, an appealto a prototype - the prototype being possibly something which is innatelyavailable to the human mind, possibly something which instead öf beinganalyzed, needs to be presented or demonstrated or manipulated.

The color term studies of Brent Berlin and Paul Kay (1) suggest aprototype semantics, especially with the supporting evidence that there arephyslologically built-in predispositions in human beings for perceiving orrecognizing or categorizing certain hues. That is to say, in the prototypecolor semantics, to know red isto know something more or less directly,but to know pink is to know red and to know that pink differs from red

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along a certain dimension and to a certain degree.

Much of the work on the part of the psychologist Eleanor Rosch onnatural categories (2) suggests a prototype semantics. For the point I ammaking, the'naturalness'of the categories is not so much the issue;butthat helps. The prototype semantic notion I have in mind is this: I canknow a sqwre more or less directly; a trapezoid I know, however, in thefirst instance anyway, as a square that got distorted in a particular way.

Related to these questions is what some researchers see as the problem ofdetermining linguistic category boundaries. This work is exemplified insome recent studies of William Labov's (3). Knowing the category anp (asopposed to glass or bowl) is recognizing such properties as the ratiobetween the circumference of the opening and the height of the container,having one handle, being made of opaque vitreous material, being used forconsumption of liquid food, being accompanied with a saucer, tapering,and being circular in cross-section. The conditions for proper cuphood,one could conclude from this literature, requires an object's falling withinan acceptable range on each ofthese several dimensions, or departing fromthe expected range within one dimension only if the departure iscompensated for by meeting certain other conditions in the otherdimensions.

One way of looking at some of this category-boundary research is to saythat it provides us with the fairly complicated function that specifies theboundary conditions for a category. Another way of looking at it is some-thing like this. People know from their kitchens and their dining roomsand from their experiences in restaurants such things as what a typical cuplooks like, what kinds of settings it is usually found in, and what it is usedfor. From these experiences people have lots of examples of clear cases ofcups. They have, morecver, the same sort of knowledge about glasses andbowls and dishes and trays and saucers. When'confronted with monstercups ofthe kind Labov and his collaborators presented or depicted in theexperimental setting, they have had to draw from a repertory of categoriesthat does not cover this new case, but within which there rnight be onecategory which fits this new case better than any of the others. They haveeither had to decide on one category from this repertory which fits thisnew experience in some sufficiently satisfying way - there being nothingbetter - or thev have refused to decide.

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Perhaps it could be argued that we have here two ways of saying the samething; that may be so, but I think there is a difference. The difference thatI see is in the kinds of research questions that can be naturally formulatedwithin the two views. Asking for the boundary conditions for a particular

category is asking a very special kind of question; asking about thestrategies used by people in projecting from a repertory ofprototypesonto novel situations is asking a very general kind ofquestion. Ifthere aresystematic differences between individuals or between communities in themanagement of these strategies, or if it turns out that these strategies alsofigure in the description of historical changes in the meanings of words,then 1 think the prototype view is the more helpful one to take.

(In general, the prototype theory offers an alternative to a popular butdecreasingly satisfying view, the view that people's judgments on how totalk in experimentally presented bizarre contexts offer subtle kinds ofevidence for the existence of dialect differences that would otherwise havegone undiscovered. Prototype semantics can be thought of as a '

generahzation ofthe view that a theory oflanguage needs to distinguishbetween having a rule and using a rule. It may turn out to be much moreuseful to speak of the 'internalized' linguistic rules as being simple ruleswhich cover prototypic cases, and thgn to speak of much of the so-called'dialect' differences that generative grammarians are fond of positing asinvolving, not differences in the character of the internalized rules, butdifferences in people's strategies for using these rules).

Another side of the question we are examining has to do with what I havelearned from Wallace Chafe to refer to as the distinction between formal

knowledge and experiential knowledge. Formal knowledge is the kind ofknowledge that can be formulated propositionally ; experiential knowledgeis the kind of knowledge that efi$ts as memories of experiences - the reallyclear cases of the latter being such things as knowing what somebody'sface looks like.

This distinction is relevant to the prototype theory of meaning, because

one conceivable and not unreasonable version of such a theory might be

that the prototypes are essentially experiential. On this view, the process

of using a word in a novel situation involves comparing current experiences

with past experiences and judging whether they are similar enough to ball

for the same linguistic encoding.

ri:ftltl

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Something like the prototype idea can be found in the open textureconcept of the philosopher Waismann (4), in the enactive and iconicmemory representations of Bruner (5), in Lindsay's discussion of the needfor something akin to mental pictures in the design of language translationand problem solving systems within artificial intelligence (6), inwittgenstein's discussion of the non-formalizable human ability to perceivean individual case as being or not being an instance of a paradigm case (7),in experimental psychologists' discussions of strategies by which peoplelearn visual forms (as in the case where a child first learns to identify asquirrel as a strange-looking cat) (8), in traditional studies of simile andmetaphor, in which one treats of the ways in which any perceived orbelieved-to-be-typical property of the vehicle can contribute to the tenor.and in various recent works on vagueness in linguistic categorizations bysuch diversely motivated researchers as hkoff (9) and Zadeh (10).

2.A second aspect to the spirit of the times that I am trying to characterizeis the notion of frame or schema. One early use of the term in a linguisticsetting was my own, in the expression case frame;but it is also used byvarious writers in artificial intelligence and cognitive psychology,sometimes with reference to the notion of the case frame as the source.The idea, under various names, goes back at least as far as the schemataidea of Bartlett (1 l) and has recent elaborations in the work of Minsky(12) and Winograd (l 3); I see it also in the associative relations idea of thepsychologist Bower (14).

In proposing the ideas of case grarnmar (l 5), I thought of the case frameassociated with a particular predicating word as the imposition of structureon an event (or on the conceptualization of an event) in a fixed way andwith a given perspective. Let me try to explain what I mean by that. Werecognize in what we might call a commercial event such facts as that: twopeople are active, and each of the two performs two acts, the buyer that oftaking the goods and that of surrendering the money, the seller that oftaking the money and that of surrendering the goods. And yet the caseframes require that any single predication describing aspects of thecommercial event is limited in the penpective on the event which can betaken and in the ways in which particular participants in the event can begiven a grammatical role in the associated sentence.

For example, in a sentence like

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John bought the sandwich from Henry for three dollars.

one of the two activities of the buyer is registered, those of the seller arenot, mention of the seller and the money is optional, and - in some sense -

the event is viewed from the perspective of the buyer. In the sentence

Henry sold John the sndwich for three dollars

an activity ofthe seller is registered, those ofthe buyer are not, mention

of the buyer and the money is optional, and the perspective is that of the

seller, InJohn paid Henry three dollars for the sandwichone of the activities of the buyer is mentioned, the activity of the seller isnot, and (in context) the mention of the goods is optional. And in thesentenceThe vndwich cost John three dolhrsthe perspective has changed again; and this particular predicate provides no

easy way to include mention of the seller. i

What is important to realize about the case frames is that they presuppose

a fairty complete understanding ofthe nature ofthe total transaction oractivity, and that they determine a particular perspectival anchoringamong the entities involved in the aötivity. A complete description of theprototypical commercial event would have to mention goods, money, the

money system, the two human-participant roles, the two transfers of

ownerships, and so on. There happens not to be any simple one-clause way

of representing all of the aspects of an entire commercial event. We must

distinguish, in other words, two different 'levels' of conceptualframeworks for events: the one giving a general representation of all of the

essential aspects of events of a particular category; and the other giving theparticular perspective on an ev€nt of the type dictated by a case frame.

A general understanding of a particular event tupe - such as that of thecommercial act - cante thought of as providing the setting within whichspecific notions related to this act can be specified or defined. The idea issimilar to what is found in the pirilosopher Hanson's discussion of theproblem ofdefining the word aorta (6). The procedure for getting

somebody to understand the word uorta - a word that cannot be defined ina purely formal or categorial way - is to present him with an instance of, areplica of, the circulatory system of some typical mammal, to point out tohim a certain portion of this system, to explain how that portion is relatedto the rest, and to tell him that this is called theaorta.In the case of aword like, say, merchanf, the procedure is to present somebody with a

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description of, or a prototypical instance of, a commercial act; and then topoint to one of the individuals involved in this act and to say that he is themerchant. The same would hold for explanations of the verbs used fordescribing aspects of a commercial act. For example, I can point to thegoods I can then draw your attention to the amount of money that gotexchanged, and I can then say something likeThis cost three dollursas a way of getting you to understand the meaning of the word cost

The alternative that I would like to reject is that of building into thedescription of each vocabulary item that figures in the description of acommercial act, information about all aspects of the act. In a sense, what Iam proposing contains, in the long run, the same information: but itallows a more gestalt-like conception of the nature of the commercialevent. In other words, if we know in one way or another what thecommercial event is, then, given that knowledge, we can know exactlywhat the vocabulary pertaining to that semantic domain means. In short, Ican believe of myself that I know exactly what is meant by such words asbuy, sell, Wy or cosf, without requiring of myself that I have a completeand correct checklist description of the commercial event itself.

(In recent years I have not had much to say about my proposals on casegrammar or about the many extensions, improvements and corrections ofit that have been proposed. A famous critic of heretical linguistic theoriesonce described case grammar as a mere notational variant of a morefamiliar linguistic theory, differing from the latter in especially the oneimportant respect that the latter was correct. My own silence on thesubject may have been taken, I fear, as an embrassed withdrawal. Myfeeling is that, independently of whether what I was proposing wasnotationally expressible within some other system, the important points -some of which I think had not been made before - were those that had todo with the frame analyses that the system of cases could be used todefine, and with certain claims about dependencies and hierarchicalrelations that seemed to obtain among the terms in this system. Actuallythe reason that I have pulled back is the same as the reason I getdissatisfied with a filing system for my notes when I suddenly becomeaware that the box labeled "MISCELLANEOUS" contains more than allthe rest. There were just too many things I could not account for. I havenot, in fact, given up on case grammar; but I think I need to becomeclearer about the difference between the perspectival or orientational

6 l

frames that the system of cases allows, and the frameworks of roles andcategories in terms of which it is possible to describe the vast range ofactions and scenes and experiences that human beings are familiar with).

3.Athird aspect of the Zeitgeist is the current interest in text analysis. Textlingusitics is becoming increasingly popular, and increasingly important,both in Europe and in the United States. It seems to me that approachesto the analysis of discourse that do more than assign to sample texts a kindof architectonic structure - expressible as a subtle and detailed table ofcontents for the text - can not tell us very much, and that in particularsome means must be devised for analyzing the temporal development ofthe comprehension process of a discourse. Brute force ways that simplyprovide a notation for indexing individuals or time points or observationpoints, or that indicate topical continuity or topic change, or tllat providelabels for the semantic or rhetorical connections between successiveportions of the text, are useful and make text linguists sensitive to manyaspects ofthe comprehension procegs; but they do not do enough.Successful text analysis has got to provide an understanding of thedevelopment on the part of the interpreter of an image or sceneor picture of the world that gets created and filled out between thebeginning and the end of the text-interpretation experience. One way oftalking about the process is this: The first part ofthe text activates animage or scene of some situation in the mind of the interpreter;later partsof the text fill in more and more information about that situation, give it ahistory, give it a motivation, embed it in other scens or situations, and soon. In other words what happens when one comprehends a text is that onementally creates a kind of world; the properties of this world may dependquite a bit on the individual interpreter's own private experiences - areality which should account for part ofthe fact that different peopleconstruct different interpretations of the same text. As one continues withthe text, the details ofthis world get filled in, expectations get set upwhich are later fulfilled or thwarted or left hanging, and there are suchexperiences as surprise, suspense, disappontment, and so on, experienceswhich can be at least partly explained by a description of the temporaldevelopment of the interpretation experience.

4.With all of the above as introduction,let me try to formulate, in aregrettably imprecise way, the picture I have formed of the

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communication and comprehension processes. It seems to me that ourknowledge of any linguistic form is available to us, in the first instance, inconnection with some personally meaningful setting or situation. Becauseof the fact that it is personally meaningful its recurrence - or theoccurrence later on of something similar to it - will be recognized.

The argument can be made that a language-learning child first learns labelsfor whole situations, and only later learns labels for individual objects. Achild might flrst associate the word pencil, for example, with theexperience of himself sitting in a particular room with his mother drawingcircles; later on he becomes able to identify and label isolable parts of suchan experience - the pencil, the paper, the act of drawing, etc.; still later heacquires different names for the parts of different but similar scenes -

drawing, printing, writing, sketching, pencil, pen, crayon, chalk, paper,blackboard, schoolhouse walls, etc.; and in the end he finds himself with amature repertory of syntagmatic, paradigmatic and hierarchical frames forexperiences of both greater degrees of abstractness änd greater degrees ofprecision and boundedness than the original experience in which he firstencountered the word pencil.

It appears, then, that in meaning acquisition, first one has labels for wholescenes or experiences, then one has labels for isolable parts ofthese, andfinally one has both a repertory of labels for schematic or abstract scenesand a repertory oflabels for entities perceived independently of the scenesin which they were first encountered.

(Once in a while one comes across a nice piece of evidence about themiddle stage of this development. Mary Erbaugh, a graduate student in theBerkeley linguistics department, working in Oakland in the summer of1974 with some small children, brought a grapefruit in her lunch one day;she strowed the grapefruit to the children, and got an acknowledgmentfrom thern that the object was indeed a grapefruit; she then peeled it andseparated it into its segments and started eating it. She reports that thechjldren around seven years old in this group were surprised to learn thatwhat at first had looked like a grapefruit turned out to be an orange.Guessing at their reasoning, it would seem that a grapefruit, after all, issomething you cut in half with a knife and eat with a spoon. This thingwas obviously an orange, not a grapefruit. The categorizing function ofthese words had not yet been liberated from the scene of people in theirexperience eating the fruit.)

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kaving explanations and justifications for another occasion, I would likenow to present, by demonstration, some of the ways in which I would liketo use the notions I have been trying to suggest. I witl try not to feel tooembarassed by the reality that all of this may sound at first like naivearm-chair psychology and that I cannot always think of ways in which onecould decide what sorts ofpsychological evidence could be brought tobear in justifying this way of talking.

I want to say that people, in learning a language, come to associate certainscenes with certain linguistic frames. I intend to use the word scene - aword I am not completely happy with - in a maximally general sense, toinclude not only visual scenes but familiar kinds of interpersonaltransactions, standard scenarios, familiar layouts, institutional structures,enactive experiences, body image; and, in general, any kind of coherentsegment, large or small, of human beliefs, actions, experiences, grimaginings. I intend to use the word frame for referring to any system oflinguistic choices (the easiest cases being collections of words, but alsoincluding choices of grammatical rules or grammatical categories - that canget associated with prototypical instances of scenes. The distinctionbetween scene and frame that I am trying to make appears to be like thedistinction between schema and description that Bobrow and Normanmake (17), and appears to correspond, confusingly, to two hierarchicallevels of the notion frame in Minsky's work (18).

I would like to say that scenes and frames, in the rninds of people whohave learned the associations between them,activate each other; and that,furthermore, frames are associated in memory with other frames by virtueof shared linguistic material, and-that scenes are associated with otherscenes by virtuq" of sameness or similarity of the entities or relations orsubstances in them or their contexts of occurrence.

The scenes that I havefn mind can be relatively simple or relativelycomplex: thus, writing is simpler üran letter witing , and letter writing issimpler than carrying on a correspondence . The frames that are activatedby these scenes, and which activate these scenes, are correspondinglysimple or complex.

I would like to be able to speak of a process of abstraction, which consistsin developing schematic scenes with some of the positions 'left blank', soto speak. Thus, whatever the experiential origin, scenes associated with

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writing-in-general contain, in the adult, less specific entities than mothersand pencils and little boys.

- L

I would like to be able lo say that scenes and frame are mutuallyretrievable, meaning that a scene can activate its associated frame and aframe can activate its associated scene.

5 .

kt me illustrate some of these notions first in a discussion of the processof comprehending a discourse, the process of interpreting language incontext. The simplest way to look at this process is to consider discoursecoherence relations in a two-party conversation, We can examine someelementary'two-stroke' conversations, of not very greal naturalness,involving the notion of witing.

The Japanese verb kaku and the English verb write are frequentlyacceptable translations of each other, but the scene-and-frame analysis ofthe two words shows them to be partly different. For the Japanese word,the associated scene is one of somebody guiding a pointed traceJeavingimplement across a surface, as with the English word;but in the case ofthe Japanese word, the nature of the resulting trace is left more or lessunspecified. Thus, if somebody were to ask,Nani o kakimasita ka?(meaning "What did you kaku? "), the answer can identify a word orsentence or character, or, just as well, a sketch or a circle or a dooble.

The English verb write also has this same scene associated with it, forwhich we can assign a framework of concepts identifying such entities asthe writer; the implement; the surface on which the traces are left; and theproduct. Since I know at least that much about writing,I know that if youtell me that you have been writing, I can, talking within the frame thatyou have introduced into our conversation, ask you such questions asllhat did you write?llhat did you write on?What did you wite with?(Notice that if, instead, I were to ask a question lke lilhat time is it? ormake a comment lke I've got a bad toothache, I would not be talkingwithin the frame you introduced;I would be changing the subject).

The English verb write , unlike the Japanese verb kaku, has an additional

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scene associated with it, for which there is what we might call a languageframe. It happens that the product of an act of witing cannot be a picture

or a smear, but has to be something linguistic. Because of the existence of.

this second frame, articulated with the first, I can then ask, talking withinone of the frames your remark has introduced into our conversation, suchquestions as these:What languge were you writing in?What does what you wrote mean?The word write , tn other words, simultaneously activates both an action

scene of a particular kind and a linguistic communication scene; thefittingness of successive parts of the text can be judged by appealing toeither of these two frames

Suppose now that your sentence about writing gives some name to theproduct of the wt'iting; you will then have introduced a still neq frame,

the one (or ones) associated with the new lexical material you have

introduced. For instance, if you tell me that you have been writing aletter,youhave introduced into our conversation what might be called acorrespondeqce frame. Now free to talk within that frame, I can ask youquestions likeWo are you writing to?When are you going to send it?When do you think she will get it?Do you think she will answer it?and so on. Or - going further still - if you tell me that you have written

another letter, then we have a historical frame going, and it is now

appropriate for me - assuming that I do not already know the historical

setting for you remark - to ask you such questions asHow many earlier letters did you write?Iilho did you send those letters to?and so on.

/

Textual coherence cannot be determined on the basis of single sentencesand the scenes activated by the frames triggered by their lexical andgrammatical content. The examples given so far treated these reports(about you having written something) as first contributions to a two-partyconversation whose participants do not know very much about each other.If, however, I already have 'activated' certain scenes about you - if, forexample, I know that you are in the finishing stages of preparing a paperon Latvian palatalized consonants - and if, in that context, you say to me

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merely that you have been writing, I can then quite appropriately ask youa question like.Have you dectded what journal you'regoing to send it to?In this case, I was able to fit what you said to me into some scenes thatwere already previously activated; and I can therefore appropriately talkwithin any of the frarnes associated with parts of that larger complexscene.

Two'line conversations are, of course, extremely simple kinds of 'texts'. Ingeneral, single-author texts or more extensive conversations, will haveanalogous kinds of coherence properties. In each case, a text is coherent tothe extent that its successive parts contribute to the construction of asingle (possibly quite complex) scene.

The process of communication involves the activation, within speakers andacross speakers, of linguistic frames and cognitive scenes. communicatorsoperate on these scenes and frames by means of various kinds ofprocedures, cognitive acts such as filling in the blanks in schematic scenes,comparing presented real-world scenes with prototypical scenes, and so on.The concepts needed for discussion ofthese operations include real-worldscenes, prototypic scenes, linguistic frames for scenes or parts of scenes,perspectives or orientations within scenes provided by the kinds of framesknown as case frames, and a set ofprocedures or cognitive operations suchas comparing, matching, filling in, and so on.

6.It is reasonable to wonder why it is necessary to have two categories, i.e.,both scene and frame, where one might be considered sufficient. Thereason I distinguish the two is that very often there are perfectly wellunderstood aspects of scenes, even quite familiar scenes, for which thespeaker, or a given speaker, has no linguistic encoding options within theframe that is most directly activated by that scene. wallace chafe has giventhe example of the trafjic cone or trafflc pilon,the orange cone-shapedobject that is used by highway patrol people and highway workmen forstopping or rerouting traffic. Everybody knows what they are, what theirfunction is, and what they look like, but only a fairly small proportion ofthe population knows what to call them. When a person learns the name ofthis object, the scene does not change, only the associatecl frame.

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An example from my own experience is the scene of an intersection with astoplight. Sometimes you get a green light allowing you to turn left under

the condition that the oncoming traffic is required to stop. I have been

familiar with this situation for many years, but I only recently learned. away of talking about it. It happened when I heard someone say Oh good.

they've got a protected left turn'here now.The scene, again, has notchanged for me;only the associated frame which that scene activates.

7.Now it happens that all of this could be talked about in other terms thanthose I have been offering, in ways that are more formal and respectable.This is especially true if we have a rich collection of semantic markers andsemantic distinguishers and presuppositional devices, and if we can have anunlimited number of distinct predicates, one for each aspect of each sc-enethat we might have something to say about as speakers of a language. Yet Ithink, as I suggested earlier, that the scenes-and-frames view of'meaning issuperior to checklist theories ofmeaning in the kinds ofresearch that seemimportant and in the sensibleness with which issues in the theory ofmeaning can be formulated.

As an example of this last point, let me take the in some circles highlyvalued search for a core meaning or Grundbedeutung of a linguistic form, asearch I see as based on the commitment to reduce all appearances ofambiguity to a minimum. Katz and Fodor have made us all aware (19) ofthe various meanings of the English noun bachelor: one being unmarriedadult male human being;anolher being a knight beaing the banner ofanother knight; a third beinga young male fur seal without o rltete duingthe mating seasor. Roman Jakobson has reportedely argued that this is anunnecessary d,isplay of ambiguity, and that the three meanings can all besubsumed under a single formulation, namely: unfulfilled in a typical rnalerole.

Men who choose not to marry, or who are at the age when they mightmarry but have so far been unlucky or too busy, have a special status thatdistinguishes them from many other men their age. This is a special enoughstatus to deserve a name: and the name is bachelor. The male fur sealwants to have as many sexual partners as he can manage, and if he is bigand strong and has a loud voice, he will be able to keep the younger andweaker males away from his breeding territory. The seals who have thisspecial rejected status deserve, for the observing ethologist, a special name:

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and once again, the name is bachelor.It happens that the same word isused in both of these settings; but I think it is misleading to separate aword from its context just for the sake of capturing in one fomulation thecommon features of these two kinds of scenes. It is misleading, that is, ifwe are trying to capture by the semantic description of a word what it isthat a speaker of the language needs to know in order to use the wordappropriately.

I would prefer to say that what Jakobson has expressed is the similarity onthe basis of which some zoologist created a name for the lonely youngseals (viewed as part of the act of creating a linguistic frame for the sceneof fur seal society): he borrowed the word bachelor from a different frameon the basis of analogy. It is simply not the case, as the Jakobsoniananalysis would suggest, that the meaning of the word bachelor wasextended or made more general; the attempt to support such a claim, afterall, would require the semanticist to find a realTy general boundarycondition that could cover exactly the things that are calledbachelors.There are genuine cases of lexical-meaning generalization, and we certainlyneed a kind of analysis that will enable us to distinguish those from thespurious cases such as those we see in the polysemy of bachelor.

8.Another issue in semantic theory that I think the scene-and-frame analysiscan shed some light on is the question of determining the boundaryconditions of semantic categories, a question discussed earlier inconnection with Labov's study. Typically this sort ofresearch is a part ofthe work of scholars who regard the meaning of a linguistic form as bestexpressed in terms of an exhaustive checklist of the conditions that mustbe satisfied in order for one to be able to say that the word has beenappropriately used. Boundary research on our word bachelor in its mostfamiliar sense raises such questions as these:How old does a male human have to be beforehe can reasonsbly be called a buchelor?Is somebody who is professionally committed to the single W consideredu bachelor? Isit right to say, for example, that Pope John XXIIIdied u bachelor?When we wy of a widower or a divorced man thathe is now a bachelor, are we speaking literallyor metaphorically? I,lhat tests sre there

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for knowing which it is?Is bqchelorhood a state one can enter? Ifa piest left the piesthood in middle life,

could we correctly descibe his situation by

saying thot he became a bachelor at age 47?If people give different answers to these questions, do they speakdifferent diqlects?Are these dialects stable? How do they get

learned?and so on.

These are all reasonable questions, given the checklist theory of meaning.A prototype theory of meaning might phrase things quite differently. Theconcept bachelor is well-defined in a kind of prototype world which issimpler in manylrespects than the real, familiar world. In this pSototype

world, people typically marry around a certain age, and if they marry theystay married. If they do not marry, there is something aberrant aboutthem: either they are unlucky, or th.9V don't like women, or they avoidthe constraints marriage would impose on their personal freedom. TheirIifeways differ markedly from those of their married age peers, justifying

their categorization. The thing to notice about this prototype is that itsimply does not cover all cases.

When a linguist is asking an informant to explore the boundary conditionsof a word, he is actually asking the informant to make judgments that arenot provided for by his understanding ofthe word as that is based on theassociated prototypic scene. The informant, instead, is being asked tomake judgments about whether lre is willing to extend a frame that heassociates with,a familiar and well-defined scene to a situation for whichhe does not have a frame; or he is being asked to decide whether he iswilling to create a new frame for the new scene using a given word from adifferent frame; or he-is being asked whether he has already confrontedthis problem and made a decision. This research is particularly tricky, sincethe linguist may be confronting the informant with a situation that is notpersonally meaningful for him, with a situation, that is, which does notcall on the informant's actual communicating, expressive, or classifyingneeds.

Another example of the same point is provided by the word widow.Boundary research on this word would consider such questions as these:

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Would you call a woman a widow who murde:redher husband?l|ould you call a woman a widow whose divorcebecame final on the doy her husband died?Would you call a woman a widow who had losttwo of her three husbqnds but who hud oneliving one left?

Given the checKist theory of meaning, these are all reasonable questions.Within a prototype theory of meaning, however, we might say that theconcept widow is a concept that finds its place within a simpleprototypical scene in which people marry as adults. they marry one personforlife, they marry at most one person, and theirlives are seriouslyaffected by their partner's death. This prototypic scene simply does notcover all possible cases of a woman marrying a man and then at some latertime being predeceased by him.

9 .This process, which I have suggested is a common part of practically alluses of language, of applying a frame that is associated in advance with onescene to a novel scene, is importantly involved in the kind ofcommunicalive act known as metaphor. Because of this fact, there arethose who might be inclined to say that every instance of speaking is aninstance of metaphor. I would rather say that metaphor consists in using,in connection with one scene, a word - or perhaps a whole frame - that isknown by both speaker and hearer to be more fundamentally associatedwith a different frame. The requirement for a true metaphor is that theinterpreter is simultaneously aware of both the new scene and the originalscene.

If the new scene already has a frame of its own, then we have an instanceof what we might call a wasteful metaphor, as found in the device ofcalling a camel a ship of the desert.If the new scene lacks such a frame,then we have what we might call efficient metaphor; instances of efficientmetaphor in the history of our languages might be seen in the decision touse the terminology of spatial relationships in talking about time or intalking about the organization and functioning of the huam mind.

(Obviously I have not made all the distinctions that need to be made. Ihave simplified matters, for example, by saying that the speaker and the

1 l

hearer must both be aware of the two ranges of application of theexpression. If metaphoring is viewed as a cognitive act, we must distinguishmetaphor for the coiner from metaphor for the user form metaphor forthe interpreter.)

10 .Another common semantic issue related to the question of the fit betweena frame and a scene is the ncition of selection restrictions. Carefuldiscussions of word meanings have considered, all the way back, thedifference between what might be called the meaning proper of a word andits range. of application. Expressed in our terms, the selection restrictioninformation about the use.of a word can be stated as a specification of thenature of the appropriate scene. The concept of selection restriction as it isusually viewed in linguistics defines it as a relationship among the elementsof a frame, not as a relationship between a frame and its associated scene.

When we are talking in English about vertical measures of an erect object,and when that erect object is a human being, the scalar words we use aretsll and short . When we are talking about the vertical distance of someobject from a bottom base line - such an object as a bird in flight or abranch in a tree - the scalar terms we use are high and /ow. Given thesetting in which we are concerned with the vertical extent of buildings, thewords we use are tall and low.

Now to some extent, of course, it would be possible to associate thesedistributional facts with the properties of other words in the associatedframes (as Bierwisch and others have done (20) ), but to me that seemslike disguising what is really going on. Instead of recording separately, witheach noun like cloud, tree, branch, uwn, building, etc., the dimensionaland orientational features on the basis of which the correct measurementwords can be selected, it seems more appropriate to describe the differentkinds of situations andto present the grading words that are used in eachof these.

(A related question, one that is sometimes considered within andsometimes without the proper domain of linguistic semantics, has to dowith the proper irrterpretation of word association data. The generallyaccepted view among linguists, I believe, is that word-association data havemore to do with experiences in people's life histories than with thestructure oflanguage, and that therefore they do not belong in discussions

of linguistic semantics. What I am suggesting here, however, is thatlinguistic semantics cannot be properly separated from an examination ofpeople's experiences with language in context; and so maybe the two areasof interest are not all that disparate. If, thus, the lexical items we use inour language are essentially items with classifying and describing functionswithin familiar settings, then there is no critical difference between thetwo interests. When I hear a word - if the frame and scene theory is correct- I activate in my memory one of the scenes within which I know how touse the word, as well as the rest of the frame which contains the word forthat scene. If schematic frames are actualized, as is likely in an adult, thenother words which can 'fill the blanks' - i.e. elements of a paradigmaticframe - come to mind. I have not suggested a way of researching wordassociation data;but it does seem to me that notions of meaning andlanguage comprehension should somehow be discussable within the sameframework as word associations).

i l .I have been sayin$ that we need for semantic theory some notion ofscenes;that scenes can be partly described in terms of the linguistic frameswith which they are associated; and that scenes and frames, in addition tobeing cognitively linked with each other, are likewise linked with otherscenes and other frames, in such a way that, in their totality, theycharacterize the perceived and imagined world and the whole frameworkof linguistic categories for talking about imaginable worlds.

The word scene that Ihave been using, as I have already stressed, is by nomeans to be associated solely with the prototypic meaning of that word.Some of the things I would like to call scenes are like that, however, suchas the scenes of the flora and fauna of one's garden, the artifacts in one'skitchen, the observable parts of the human body, and so on. Others arecloser to a cinematic sense of scene, with its dynamic aspect - such thingsas a person eating, a child drawing a picture, people engaged in acts ofcommerce, and so on. Other scenes, in my sense, might contain things thatwould not be visible in a'visual'scene: in this case we have somethingcorresponding to the stage-direction sense of scene, whereby it could beimagined that a closed box has candy in it, or that somebody is hidingbehind a curtain. Other examples of three-dimensional scenes that cannotbe perceived all at once are the location and distribution of the internalorgans of the human body, or the shape of a pretzel.

t )

Other scenes are farther away still from the prototype. In some cases to

understand a word we have to understand a history;and here by history I

mean merely some understanding of a particular path of development in

time, past or future or general. Examples of words whose interpretations

require the understanding ofhistorical scenes are scar (21), which is notjust the name of a feature of the surface of somebody's skin, but is thehealing state of a wound; widow, which refers to a woman who was once

married but whose husband has died;mufti,wlich designates ordinary

clothes, but ordinary clothes worn by somebody who professionally wearsa military uniform;and so on. Others might be slightly more complicated.An apple core is not a particular well-defined portion of an apple, suchthat nature has provided the seam between the apple-core and the rest ofthe apple. An apple-core is that part of the apple that somebody who eatsapples the way most of us do has left uneaten. In order to understand theword, you have to know how people in our culture eat apples. Therewould simply be nb need for such a word in a community in whjch peopletypically ate the entire apple, either swallowing or spitting out the seeds. Aplacebo, to give another example, is not something that has characteristicsof its own, but is an innocent substance given to the control group in anexperiment testing the effectiveness öf some new medicine, or is asubstance given deceptively as medicine to a group of subjects to find outhow they are affected by believing that they are taking medicine. There isno way of understanding the meaning of the word without having a notionof the whole experimental setting;

Other scenes involve a understanding of conditions. There is noidentifiable characteristic of poison apart from the reality that when livingbeings - or maybe only certain living beings - ingest them, they die or areotherwise seriously harmed. A wound is not just any non-typicalinterruption inJhe integument-of some living being, but is in particularsomething which hinders the being's effectiveness or well-being.

Other scenes have to.do with body image - such things as knowing zp,down, left, ight, front and back. These are all concepts that we could nothave formed if we did not have bodies;these are concepts that could nothave developed in a purely spiritual universe that contained purely

spiritual beings.

Related to the body image scene are scenes of what bodies can do - these

scenes differing, ofcourse, depending on what kinds ofbodies we are

74

talking about. Dependent on such scenes are our understanding ofverbslike walk, stand, gallop, crawl, frown, smile, vomit, as well as nouns likelap, fist, and so on.

Other body-dependent scenes have to do with experiences that thephysical body is capable of: such things as hunger, nausea, fever,wakefulness, and hesrtbum. Still other scenes relate to psychicexperiences: on these depend such notions as anger, fear, andwakefulness.More complex than these are psychic experience that have histories: thingslike: impatience, suspense, surprise, disappontment, etc. Knowing thesewords is not just knowing the character of the associated emotions per se,but is knowing what sorts of events could create the emotionalexperiences. Impatience, for example, is the way somebody feels whobelieves something is going to happen, who wants it to happen soon, but ispowerless to rnake it happen. Disappointment is the way somebody feelswho had wanted something to happen, who had reason to believe that itwas going to happen, but who has found out that it wasn't going tohappen. In order for us to have an understanding of these words, we haveto have experienced such feelings as wanting, expecting, etc., and we alsohave to understand the characteristic historical features of the associatedsceies.

Still other scenes involve not just visual or experiential memories of image,but require an understanding of the kinds of actions and events whosepurposes and characters are determined by institutions, conventions,agreements, contracts, etc. Here I have in mind such notions asbuy, sell,promise, borrow, gßrqntee, strike, negotiate, eLc.

A still different kind of scene, one which frequently interlinks with theother by means of lexical items or grammatical choices, is sornething wemight refer to as an interactional scene. Such scenes involve perceptions ofthe social realities of the setting in which talking is being carried out: suchthings as the age, sex, social status, or institutional roles oftheparticipants; the friendliness or aloofness ofthe interaction; the speech actforce of the individual contributions to the interaction: and so on.

12.Given these new understandings, let me retum once again to questions ofcommunication and comprehension. The linguistic choices made explicitby the speaker activale certain scenes in the interpreter's repertory of

t )

scenes, and as the linguistic data continue to be produced and processed,these original scenes get linked into larger scenes, their'blanks' get filledin, and perspectives within them are assumed. The all-important role of thenotion of prototypic scenes in this process consists in the fact that muchof this linking and filling-in activity depends, not on information that getsexplicitly coded in the linguistic signal, but on what the interpreter knowsabout the larger scenes that this material activates or creates. Suchknowledge depends on experiences and memories that the interpreterassociates with the scenes that the text has introduced into hisconsciousness.

In a text l ike the following one,I haci trouble with the car yesterday. The carburetor was dirty.We have no difficulty in dealing with the definite noun phrase in thesecond sentence (that is, we have no trouble figuring out which of theworld's carburetors is here being described as dirty) because the bcenecreated by linking lhe car and carburetor scenes together was one whicheasily provided an anchoring frame for the carburetor. The interactionalscene for this text needs to be one which indicates something of what isgoing on in the production of the text. In this case the second sentencecan be understood as an explanation, or further specification, ofthemessage given with the first sentence. On the other hand, in a text like thisoneI had trouble with the car yesterday. The ash-tray was dirty.we can easily figure out a connection between the mentioned car and therhentioned ash-tray;but this time our scenes about having trouble with acar do not really provide any way ofinterpreting the second sentence. Thelack of coherence for this second text seems to be determined by ourinability to figure out any single coherent event scene that includes bothof these situations linked purposefully to each other.

13 .Let us look again at some traditional semantic problems. Consider thistime the two sentences,A dog was barking.A hound was baying.It is clear that certain collocational expectations are satisfied with thesesentences that would not be satisfied with having the nouns and verbsre-matched;and yet the collocational preference is not so strong that onecould say that these new sentences were semantically anomalous, The

"ti

76

difference cannot, in other words, be spoken of as something accountablein terms of selection restrictions.

A scene-and-frame analysis would have it that in a particular kind ofhunting-dog scene associated with the activity of hunting the animal in thescene is labeled hound and the special kind ofbarking that this kind ofanimal performs is called baying.It would be altogether misleading, itseems to me, to express these directly as collocational facts about words oras selection restriction facts about the semantic properties of words.

14.Let me go back again to the problem of looking for a maximally generaldescription of the meaning of a word. I mentioned earlier that tall andshort were used for humans that high and low were used for talking aboutdistance upward from a base line, and that tall and low were used forvertical measures of buildings. Looking at these facts and deriving fromthem a general description oflow and a general description of tall thalcovered just the right cases would be misleading. It would be misleadingbecause it would have to be formulated independently of the distinctscenes in which these words exist as members of contrast sels. In the sameway, I think it would be misleading to define short with a single statementthat covered both its use as the polar opposite of tall and its use as thepolar opposite of long.

1 5 .Arguments that in general words should be thought of in connection withthe contexts in which they function can be found, I think, in the facts thatwords sometimes undergo separate historical changes or become subject todifferent morphological processes as members of different frames. Thebest-known example of this is the double plural of brother, namelybrothers and brethren. Conceivably a unitary definition of brother couldbe given which covers its biological-family and its religious-communitysenses together; but then the reference to the separate contexts wouldhave to be brought in for describing the pluralization phenomena.

An example of this same sort of phenomenon that I have recently becomeaware of is with the adjective live.In the original scene we have the livingvs. dead or the living vs. non-living contrast. When associated with thisbasic scene, the adjective has the formlive prenominally but the form alivein predicate position. That is, we say:

77

Those me live lobsters.Those lobsters are ulive.

We can see as an event in the history of our language that the living vs.dead frame has been extended, metaphorically, to manners, personality,speech, etc.; but in this new scene, the formalive is used in both syntacticcontexts, at least in American English. That is, we say:Her mnnner is very alive.She has a very alive manner.

The same frame has also been extended to the situation in which what isbeing contrasted is the difference between a performer's being or not beingphysically present for a performance, i.e., whether the performer in anentertainment is on stage himself or is being presented on film or by audiorecording. As a member of this contrast set, the adjective has the lorm livein both syntactic contexts. Thus:His performance wus live.He gave o live performance.

(In this third use the word appears to be undergoing some further change.Since I believed until recently that in its third use the adjective was appliedto performances rather than to performers, I was upset when I read a SanFrancisco Chronicle advertisement.of a theater that offers to that city astage full of live naked girls. The point was, I guess, that their customerswill see actual three-dimensional bodies rather than images on a screen;butthe only contrast set that I had for prenominal live as apphed to personssuggested more horrible possibilities).

16.Another frequently discussed issue in semantic theory is the existence ornoncxistence of synonymy, in particular of complete synonymy. Somelinguists take t}te non-existence of synonymy as axiomatic, and build partsof their semantic theories on that principle. Others take it as a convenientworking hypothesis, so that one focus of research is simply that of tryingto find out what meaning differences can be discovered between twoapparently synonymous expressions. Others feel that the existence ofsynonymy should be left open. In their view, if there are reliable ways ofgiving semantic descriptions to lexical items independently, then it willturn out that if there iue any synonyms, there will be pairs of items havingidentical semantic descriptions.

,$i'

.T

'78

If we see the notion of lexical meaning as inextricably tied up with thenotion of the fit between lefcal frames and their associated scenes, thenclaims about synonymy take on slightly different interpretations. In claimsabout the non-existence of synonymy we might meal, for example, thatthere are indistinguishable scenes for which the associated frame offerslexical options. The famous case of furze and gorse (Quine's examples, Ibelieve) might fit this description. Or we might mean that the same object(necessarily the same object, I mean) is labeled in one way for one sceneand in another way for another scene, as, for example, is probably truewith pork and the flesh of dead pigs. Or we might mean that the samecognitive scene is associated with two different linguistic frames, but theinteractional scenes are different: as might be the case withweewee anduinate , or German Leu and Löwe . It is my impression that the prototypicconcept ofsynonymy does not cover these cases, and that therefore anysemanticist is free to use the term synonymy in any of these cases, or towithhold it from the second and third cases.

Linguistics obviously does not need a priori decisions about synonymy.The non-existence claims might actually express an intuition about anatural tendency that speakers have to avoid synonymy. For example, inthe borderline or overlap area of the Northern and Southern U.S.pronunciations of greasy, speakers have alternative ways ofsaying thesame thing. My understanding of what happens in these areas is that thetwo pronunciations sort themselves out into separate frames, one having todo with the literal use of the word, one with its metaphoric use. Thus:That's a greqgy poLHe's a greagt old man.The no-synonymy insight, then, is one about the tendency fordistinguishable frames to be paired with distinguishable scenes. The insightabout there not being synonyms is seen as an insight about the nature ofthe frame-to-scene mapping.

l 7I am convinced that something like the model I have been talking aboutcan allow an integrated view of many subfields in the study of meaningand comprehension. In the same conceptual framework we can discussword meanings, the speech-act function of making particular linguisticchoices, the acquisition of meaning in the child, changes of word meaningsin the history of the language, the process of communicating in general,

79

the process of comprehending a text, the teaching of meaning insecond-language education, and so on. It is not easy to see how thesenotions can be formalized or how a. scenes-and-frames semantics can belinked up with a generative grammar. These pages amount to no more thana tentative first step in seeking a solution to certain problems in semantictheory within the framework of concepts that seems to be emerging in anumber of disciplines touching on human thought and behavior.

f,

80

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1. BERLIN, B. and KAY, P.,Basic Color Terms, Their Untversatity andEvolution, University of California Press, 1969.

2, ROSCH, E., "Natural categories", Cognitive Prychology 4, (1973), pp.328-350.

3. LABOV, W., "The boundaries of words and their meanings", in C-J; N.BAILEY and R. SHUY, (eds.),.Mew htays of Arulyzing Variation in English,Georgetown University Press, 1 973.

4. WAISMANN, F., "Verifiability", in A. FLEW, (ed.),Zogic and Language, Fintand Second Series, Doubleday Anchor, 1953.

5. BRUNER, J., "The course of cognitive growth",,4moican Psychologßt 19,(1964),pp. 1-5.

6. LINDSAY, R., "Inferential memory as the basis of machines whichunderstand natural thought", in E. A. FEIGENBAÜM and J. FELDMAN,Computers and Thought, McGraw HiU, 1963.

7, WITTGENSTEIN,L.,PhilosophicalInvestigations, Second Erlition, Macmillan,1958,23tt.

1VOODWORTH,R. S.,Experimental Psychology, Henry Holt, 1938, p. 73.

LAKOFF, G. P,, "Hedges: a study in meaning criteria and the logic of fuzzyconcepts",in Papers from the Eighth Regional Meeting, Chicago LingpßticSociety, University of Chicago Linguistics Depaftment,I972, '

ZADEH, L., "Quantitative fuzzy semantics",Information Sciences 3, (1971),pp.159-t76.

BARTLETI, Sn F., Remembering: A stndy in Experimental and SocialPsychologt, Cambridge University Pres, 1932, p. 199.

MINSKY, }L, "A framework for representing knowledge", in ArtificialIntelligence Memo No. 306, M.I.T. &tilicial Intelligence Labontory,1974.

WINOGRAD, T., "Frame representations and the declarative/proceduralcontoversy", in D.G. BOBROW and A. COLLINS, (eds.), Representation andUnderstonding, Academic Press, 1975, pp. 185-211.

BOIVER, G. H., *Mental imagery and associative learning", in L. W. GREGG,(eÄ,), Cogttition in Lerning and Memory,tililey, 1972,

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d

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FILLMORE, C. J., "The case for case", in E. BACH an<l R. HARMS, (eds.),Universaß in Lingaßtic Theory, Holt, Rinehart and Winston, (1968), pp. 1-90.

HANSON N. R., Perception and Dßcovery: An Introduction to ScientiticInquiry, Freeman, Cooper & Co., 1969, p. 30.

BqDROW, D,, and NORMAN. D., "Some principles of memory schemata", inD. BOBROW and A. COLLINS, (eds.), Representation and Understanding,Academic Press, (1975), pp. L3l-149.

MINSKY, M.,op. cit..

KATZ,.l., and FODOR, J., "The stucture of a semantic theory", Language39, (1963), pp. t70-2ro.

BIERWISCH, M., "Some semantic universals of German adjectivals",Foundations of Language, 3, (1967), pp. 1-36.

Many of these examples are taken from R. N. HANSON, op. cir. I

18.

19.

20.

2r.

t

8 180

Refddc€8 15. FILLMORE. C. r., -I1le @se fo! ce", ir E. AACS eit R EARMS, (e&.),UrlwMb rn Lingtßti. m@ry, Holt, Rinehdt and wlnrton, (1968), pp, 1-90,

l. BERLIN, B. rnd KAY,P., Batb Colot TetN, meir tkite@liü dldEDtutnrr, rhiwrlit of Griforia Prea, 1969. 16. HANSON N R., terept ot anat Discovery: A" Intrcduct'ü to Soehtifl.

It4uitt,Fr@nu, Coopt & 9o., 1969,p. 30.2. ROSCH, E ,'Natual oteaüß",Costtitt e Pctcholw 4, (1913t.pp.

328-350. 17. DoBRoU D., ud NoRMAN D., "some principlq of menoly schmrta", inD, BoBRow and A- CpLLINS, (edt.),Reüewtati4 ad vndqttdndiw,

3. LABOV, w', '"Ihe tounddis of miab .nd thoir mcdine.", in C-J. N A@dmic pre$, (19?5), pp. 131-149,BAILEYddR. S ry, (eds.), New Vatt o, Atulrziag Vtri.tti@ lf Etglidt,G€os.toM Univerlity Prsr,19?3. 18. MINSKY, M., op. dl.

4. WAISMANN, F., '"vqiliability",in A. FLEl',l.&t,Itgb 4.l It gwge, Fißt 19. KATZ. J..6d FODOR, J,,..The structure ofa smmtictJ\eory", Lansqsc.n l Secoa.l 5efi8, Dotbt€ilay ArcnG, 1953. 39, (t963), pp. L IO-2ro.

5, BRUMR, J., "The coüF of corlitive gosth",lnrt@4 Pstcholosbt 19, 20. BIERWISCE, 14, ..Sone Fmutic trriversaß of Cirhd .ttjecriirlt,,(1964), pp. r'5. Fouritatioat of Lawus., 3, (196'1), pp. r-a6.

6. LINDSAY, R. "lnferential mmorv s lhe bsis of nEhirs vhich 21, Many oalh* ermptes de rlkm uom R, N, HANsoN. oa d:ruddtand ßtüal thoughr", i! E A- FEIGENBAUM a{d J. FELDMAN,Co4ar@t a".l 1htuAht,U&Ew r ,1963,

?. WITTOENSTEIN,L,?ftilotuphi@lh'cttlganonc,&condErtitid,M&ni[]rn,t954,23tr.

8. WOOD\ryORT1I, R, S,, E)tpdinatal Pslcholog ,ltny Holt, 1938, p, ?3,

9. LAXOFF, G, P,, "Hedes: ! stDdy in m@ing diteri! md the logic of feyü@!rd', in Papac fum the Efughth Regiowl Meeting, Chi@go Litgui9ticSdrrtr, Univ6sity of Chicago ringuisi.iG Deldtnmt, l9?2,

r0. zADEq, L, "Quuätatire tvzy tnnstiq",InJorwtloi Scierc$ 3, (197!t,pp. 159-175.

11. EARII-ETT, Sü F., Am mbaing: A sludt i4 Erpe.imqtil anil S@idt?r/.lolo&r, canbddse Uliv6ity Ptea, 1932, p. 199.

12. MINSKY, M., '1 AlhevorL for FpreMting riowl6ilg6", ln Arr icirlht6[ig6n@ M6no No. 306, M.LT. Arfincial rnteligen@ bboratory, 1974.

13. \{INOCRAD, T., "Ftue repFentatioß and the decl@tire&oc€dülrlcontroBy", ir D.G. DOBROW üd A. COLI,I]]S, (dr\, R.plerent4tto oülUn lqtlan lhg, i..Affiic Pr6s, r9?5, pp. 185-211.

14. BO\üXR, G.II.,'M@td ißagEy .nd .$oclrtiE leaiing",in L w. cRlcc,(.4.1, cosnitioa ,t L@tus ü.1 ,tmorr,W1ley, l91L

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