A couple of years ago, USA Weekend gave a nice plug to French actor Olivier Martinez. In the movie “Unfaithful,” he pulled off a scene-stealing turn as “Diane Lane’s elicit lover.”

As the lady’s what? Her lover, sure, but her elicit lover?

At about the same time, Broadway Books published an anthology of essays on the work of J.D. Salinger. The editors said they did not mean to put together a chorus of praise. They wished “to illicit honest feelings.” They expected contributors to express a love-hate relationship. After all, “the more poignant something is, the more intense the reaction it illicits.”

How do these things happen? Martinez was playing an illicit lover, and the editors sought to elicit honest feelings, and somebody goofed. The misspellings were a product of either (a) ignorance or (b) carelessness. I have known both demons well. Every writer, professional or amateur, has known their impish ridicule. They creep into print as “homophones,” that is, two or more words that are spelled differently, have different meanings, and sound more or less alike. Our beloved English language is cursed, or blessed, with hundreds of them.

Horrid Examples abound: In Binghamton, N.Y., the owners of Mark’s Cafe wanted the world to know that their eatery was “formally known as M&D Cafe.” In Gulfport, Miss., a philanthropic couple arranged “to formerly present” a gift to the city. In Gahanna, Ohio, board certification was “formerly bestowed” upon eight teachers. In Seneca, S.C., the Charisma beauty parlor advertised its welcome to hairdresser Julie Brewer Scott, “formally of Hair Biz.” Congratulations, everybody! More or less.

In a story about a cocaine bust in Mexico, The Associated Press described the scene as police descended upon a marketplace: “Vendors hocking their illicit goods saw them coming, locked up shop and fled.” Hawking, maybe?

Shall we get straight on “breech” and “breach”? Writing in The Denver Post, a marriage counselor commented upon a “breech of integrity.” The counselor wanted “breach,” i.e., a broken, ruptured or torn condition. It is something Henry V and his dear friends a long time ago once more rushed into. The noun dates from the 12th century. Its cousin “breech” is a pair of short pants.

It is remarkable how often writers confuse “defuse” and “diffuse.” Thus the Las Vegas Sun erred in headlining a story from Milan, Italy, about an incident at the famed Duomo: “Bomb found, diffused at landmark.” An expert cut the wires, i.e., he defused it.

Following the presidential campaign of 2000, according to U.S. News, Republicans began drafting a health-care bill “to jive with Bush’s wishes.” Come now! Republicans never jive! They rarely even swing. The writer wanted “jibe,” to agree. The verb dates from the early 1800s. As a sailing term, “to jibe” means to hold on for dear life.

In Poway, Calif., a high school principal cracked down on girls who were wearing thongs to a school dance. Columnist Michelle Malkin, writing in The Indianapolis Star, commented wryly upon the resulting “hew and cry.” The fine old phrase dates from the 15th century, but it’s not a hew, it’s a hue. Once a hue was raised, every able-bodied man was required to join in pursuit of a suspected felon. An arrest would then be made under the color of law. That is why it was called a “hue.” If you will believe that, you will believe anything.

There’s no rule of thumb for detecting homophones. They happen. And we wait with baited breath for them to be discovered. We do?

James Kilpatrick is a syndicated columnist.