How to Use Em Dashes (—), En Dashes (–) , and Hyphens (-) 長破折號 (—)、短破折號 (–) 和連字號 (-) Be dashing—and do it well
//漢清講堂 譯藝獎 2025 聚會虛擬致詞/論文摘要 hc： 從桑原武夫編《一日一言〈Pierre de Ronsard自選墓誌銘〉》到《哥德談話錄 全譯本 艾克曼有心引進德國矢藝》
： 隆薩（Pierre de Ronsard 1524.9.11—1585.12.27）
古希臘的阿波羅崇拜 神話中的射殺.....
龐貝城的第一大廟： 阿波羅
李商隱 ：行次西郊作一百韻 838年初
"重賜竭中國，強兵臨北邊。控弦二十萬，長臂皆如猿。"
持弓的兵卒20多萬，各個長臂如猿，善於射箭.....
17世紀英國，低地國等國的貴族之射道
19世紀初德國不興此道
《哥德談話錄 全譯本 艾克曼有心引進德國矢藝 4頁長文》
感想： "艾克曼有心引進德國矢藝 4頁長文"當然不會出現在選本中，我認為這是偏見，其實談話錄的對手也很不俗的。
射藝也大有學問.....
Mr. Homan’s encounter with the undercover agents, recorded on audiotape, led him to be investigated for potential bribery and other crimes, after he apparently took the money and agreed to help the agents — who were posing as businessmen — secure future government contracts related to border security, the people said.
張華兄虛擬作業：
How to Use Em Dashes (—), En Dashes (–) , and Hyphens (-)
Be dashing—and do it well
如何使用長破折號 (—)、短破折號 (–) 和連字號 (-)
要瀟灑，而且要用心
https://www.merriam-webster.com/grammar/em-dash-en-dash-how-to-use
With the Em Dash, A.I. Embraces a Fading Tradition
Th人工智慧擁抱長破折號，擁抱正在消逝的傳統
關於 ChatGPT 使用長破折號的爭論不僅標誌著我們寫作方式的轉變，也標誌著寫作目的的轉變。 debate about ChatGPT’s use of the em dash signifies a shift in not only how we write, but what writing is for.
There are countless signals you might look for to determine whether a piece of writing was generated by A.I., but earlier this year the world seemed to fixate on one in particular: the em dash. ChatGPT was using it constantly — like so, and even if you begged it not to.
As this observation traveled the internet, a weird consensus congealed: that humans do not use dashes. Posters on tech forums called them a “GPT-ism,” a robotic artifact that “does not match modern day communication.” Someone on an OpenAI forum complained that the dashes made it harder to use ChatGPT for customer service without customers catching on. All sorts of people seemed mystifyingly confident that no flesh-and-bone human had any use for this punctuation, and that any deviant who did would henceforth be mistaken for a computer.
判斷一段文字是否由人工智慧生成，有無數個訊號值得關注，但今年早些時候，全世界似乎特別關註一個：長破折號。 ChatGPT 一直在使用它——就像這樣，即使你懇求它不要使用。
隨著這個觀察在網路上傳播開來，一個奇怪的共識逐漸形成：人類不會使用破折號。科技論壇上的發文者稱其為“GPT主義”，一種“與現代交流不符”的機器人產物。 OpenAI 論壇上有人抱怨說，破折號讓 ChatGPT 更難在不引起客戶注意的情況下進行客戶服務。各種各樣的人似乎都莫名其妙地確信，任何有血有肉的人都不會用到這個標點符號，任何使用這種標點符號的“異類”從此都會被誤認為是計算機。
顯然，這些「異類」們感到震驚。我就是其中之一；更糟的是，我曾經是一名校對員，可以滔滔不絕地、充滿激情地談論更窄的長破折號的用法。我非常理解這種喜歡用破折號的生活方式或許不典型，但我沒想到它的存在會受到質疑。破折號是一種由來已久且極為常見的造句工具！狄更斯、狄金森、尼采、史蒂芬‧金的小說，甚至連這本雜誌──都充斥著破折號。事實上，它們之所以受歡迎，部分原因在於它們比冒號、分號和括號更能讓人感受到自然的語言，更像人類的語言。人類思考和說話並非用句子，而是用思想，思想之間互相打斷、引入，並相互交織，如同一場精妙的小舞蹈，最終創造出更宏大、更複雜的想法。 （或者，有時並非如此：J.D. 塞林格對話中大量的破折號，就很好地詮釋了我們所有未完成的思考。）這就是標點符號的用途所在。
Those deviants were appalled, obviously. I am one; I am, even worse, a former proofreader who could speak at length and with passion about the uses of the narrower en dash. I understand very well that this dash-happy lifestyle is maybe atypical, but I had not expected to see its whole existence questioned. The dash is a time-honored and exceedingly normal tool for constructing sentences! Dickens, Dickinson, Nietzsche, Stephen King novels, this magazine — all strewn with dashes. Part of what makes them popular, in fact, is that they can feel more casually human, more like natural speech, than colons, semicolons and parentheses. Humans do not think or speak in sentences; we think and speak in thoughts, which interrupt and introduce and complicate one another in a neat little dance that creates larger, more complex ideas. (Or, sometimes, doesn’t: The copious dashing in J.D. Salinger dialogue is a great illustration of all the thoughts we leave unfinished.) This is the whole thing punctuation is for.
Those deviants were appalled, obviously. I am one; I am, even worse, a former proofreader who could speak at length and with passion about the uses of the narrower en dash. I understand very well that this dash-happy lifestyle is maybe atypical, but I had not expected to see its whole existence questioned. The dash is a time-honored and exceedingly normal tool for constructing sentences! Dickens, Dickinson, Nietzsche, Stephen King novels, this magazine — all strewn with dashes. Part of what makes them popular, in fact, is that they can feel more casually human, more like natural speech, than colons, semicolons and parentheses. Humans do not think or speak in sentences; we think and speak in thoughts, which interrupt and introduce and complicate one another in a neat little dance that creates larger, more complex ideas. (Or, sometimes, doesn’t: The copious dashing in J.D. Salinger dialogue is a great illustration of all the thoughts we leave unfinished.) This is the whole thing punctuation is for.
Learning to Live With A.I.
Read more from the New York Times Magazine's special issue.
New Opportunities for People: It might take your job, but A.I. will create new (human) careers.
Widespread Use: The hosts of The Times’s “Hard Fork” podcast on how everyone seems to be using A.I. — for everything.
Scholarship Tool: The winners of the A.I. race might soon transform the stories that historians tell about the past.
Never Saying Goodbye: After a man’s terminal diagnosis, his family decides to make a virtual avatar that lives on after his death.
The best A.I. signal the dash offers isn’t about punctuation; it’s about orthography. ChatGPT sets its dashes in the traditional style of a printed book — a stroke the width of the letter M, with no surrounding spaces. The average computer user does not type like this. The average user may not know the keystrokes that produce this character. (Or its name; some discussions called it a “ChatGPT hyphen.”) The average user just pops in a hyphen (-) or two (--), which some software corrects to that underloved en dash (–). More important, the average user puts spaces around their dashes, as most online publications do — it helps text wrap more neatly between lines.
But the arguments kept revolving around the dash itself. People talked about it as if it were some uncanny eldritch rune that no self-respecting human would even think to deploy. “Nobody uses the em dash in their emails or text messages,” one commenter insisted. “This punctuation is irrelevant to everyday use-cases.”
Oceans of communication that used to be handled by speech are now left to lone individuals typing into the internet.
I am not writing this to defend dashes. I am writing this because I want to suggest that the phrase “everyday use-cases” signals a genuinely epochal shift in our perception of what writing even is.
Consider that, for a good stretch of recent history, most of the written material that people spent time with — the stuff beyond signs and menus — was full-on writing-writing: text that somebody sat down and composed, maybe revised or edited, maybe even had professionally printed. And this kind of communication was different from our daily interaction with our peers: You talked to your peers, mostly. Even after the internet arrived, this basic psychic arrangement persisted.
And now it does not — like, at all. “Emails or text messages,” posts and chats, DMs and comments, DoorDashers telling you the restaurant is out of coleslaw: Oceans of communication that used to be handled by speech are now left to lone individuals typing into the internet. Even if you remain a dedicated reader, you may still end up spending more of your time dealing in on-the-fly typings, because that has become the everyday use-case of writing.
This everyday language is still marvelous stuff — so playfully expressive that it’s even developed an equivalent of the dopey voice we use to mock bad ideas. (It’s tYpInG LiKe tHiS.) But writing-writing is a different thing, isn’t it? At its best, it captures a different register of ideas: less visceral and immediate, maybe, but often more distilled and deliberate, more elegantly engineered, choreographing the dance of thought with more precision and depth and, usually, punctuation.
Large language models are trained on whole mountains of human-generated prose, including far more old printed matter than you or I will ever absorb. We humans ask them to mimic our writing, but we do not always specify — may not even realize — that what we mean by “writing” now includes the practically oral communication we lob through our screens all day. Then we scan the results, find telltale traces of books and magazines, and begin to fixate on those artifacts as faintly robotic. The machines are vacuously reflecting our own traditions back at us. What we may not realize yet is that we are sliding toward new ones.
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