Possibility (n.) means different things to different askers: 'can he speak?' asks after his throat for a patient, and after his learning for a child.
Possibility (n.) is held together not by one essence but by a vast net of family likenesses — conjecture, the state of a thing, the tests passed — appearing in different combinations.
Possibility (n.) is imagined as a shadow of the movement itself; see how high the seas of language run here.
Possibility (n.) seems familiar in is possible, so we never ask how various its uses are — and, lacking any survey, cannot doubt we understand.
Possibility (n.) is the same in mathematics as in time; the word misleads us into thinking it already actual.
Possibility (n.) must not be thought of as a shadow of reality; that is a deep-rooted mistake.
Possibility (n.) is what philosophy cares about: again and again the individual case is unimportant, but that it is possible discloses the essence of the world.
Possibility (n.) is not said by a proposition but shown — by an expression's being a tautology, a sense, or a contradiction.