When I was a kid, I often wondered which words were “ible” and which were “able”.\u00a0 In time, I realized that I used\u00a0more “able” words than “ible” ones.\u00a0 “Able”, I reasoned, made much more sense anyway:\u00a0 If you are “able” to do something, you can do it.\u00a0 “Ible”, by itself, has no meaning.<\/p>\n
Every once and a while, though, an –ible<\/em> word would show itself.\u00a0 Possible<\/em>, of course,\u00a0was familiar;\u00a0later, in grade 4, I met edible<\/em>.\u00a0 In quiet times I wondered if a system existed that would tell you when to use -ible<\/em> vs -able.<\/em><\/p>\n Like so many of my school-age ponderings, my quest for an explanation of when to use –ible <\/em>vs -able <\/em>faded away.\u00a0 It was gradually replaced by an acceptance that both endings had their places.\u00a0 You could check the dictionary if you weren’t sure; otherwise, like so many other things about English, you just “had to know.”<\/p>\n I’ve\u00a0put together a list of\u00a0some -ible<\/em> words for your\u00a0amusement:<\/p>\n Of course, with spell checkers, some people argue the –ible<\/em> vs -able<\/em> issue is academic.\u00a0 Maybe they’re right….<\/p>\n The changes between 1980 and 1990 were incredible.<\/p>\n\n