words like "is" make all the difference for me personally. I carry a lot of assumptions into a conversation, asking what something is? Or what something is like? Or how is it? Let alone when I begin telling someone what something is, and begin assuming the role of a legitimate conduit.
Unintentionally, we all presuppose much in our use of language, and I usually find that the more words I have carefully defined or attempted to understand, the more 'thinking pieces' I have when attempting to figure out and put a concept together for myself.
A cold philology may glaze over my senses and insulate me from some broader perspective available. Which is why philology to me is a sort of mental humility that knows where it is strong and where it is weak; where to inform and where to ask. A warm philology would be one in which my senses were firing and excitable, though humbly since in philology, we are students - nay, even real lovers of knowledge!
But it also is the most practical form of thinking philosophically. If we simply take a term for something as granted without realizing the many nuances inherent in it, may I be so bold as to say, we are a bit like a building without windows or doors; you may call it a structure, but it is survivable, not livable. And when friends come over, it isn't very comfortable. To counter this, many of us perhaps begin buying furniture; adding new elements with bright colors, or jazzy themes for the drapes and the lighting. But over time, the elements erode all of our unprotected padding over time. What we needed to begin with was to finish out the structure.
I say, philology is philosophy ... and all that that implies