The word 'only' can muddle a sentence if placed incorrectly

If only writers would place "only" where it belongs, we would all enjoy clarity.

Consider the difference between the spoken and the written word.

Suppose someone says, "I only stopped at three stores today."

In conversation, we commonly understand that the speaker stopped at only three stores.

But in writing, the form "I only stopped at three stores today" means something entirely different. It means that the only thing the person did all day was to stop at three stores.

Misplacement in a sentence of the word "only" produces a meaning different from what the writer intended.

Our business here is to make what we write say what we mean.

Precision produces clarity.

Even accomplished writers such as the New York Times opinion columnist Gail Collins (a favorite of mine) and the late William Zinsser, author of "On Writing Well," have routinely misplaced "only."

In a recent issue of the New York Review of Books, the writer Ruth Franklin consistently uses the correct form. Her article about the Holocaust documents the refusal of many nations to accept, as refugees, people who escaped from the Nazis. She writes:

"You could travel to a neutral country only if you had an exit permit. Some consuls demanded only affidavits; others required proof of material support."

Crystal clear.

That means that if you had an exit permit, the only thing you could do was to travel to a neutral country. And that the only activity consuls engaged in was to demand affidavits.

Another example of garbled meaning: this CNN headline submitted by Craig Wiester of Minneapolis.

"Sushi chain sues high school student who licked soy sauce bottle for $480,000"

Craig's response: "I would gladly lick a soy sauce bottle for $480,000!"

If only.