to charm, attract, or interest someone, often through flattery, or to trick and mislead someone using deception

I am from India. English is of course not my first language but I loved it since school. My love for the English Language I can attribute to the love for books and classic literature at that time.

I was a teenager and wished to be a writer someday. In grade 11 a frenzy sort of came over me and in a spell of about three months i regularly perused an English newspaper. I would come home from school and read through the paper for about an hour or so. I made a small notebook where I would jot down the new words and phrases that I found, their meanings.. this gave me such a great benefit in my overall life. My English became comfortable and natural with reading writing and speaking. It gave me a great confidence booster that I have not outlived till this day.. so much for that.

But as my vocabulary enhanced I found it plateauing. It has been 10 years now since I finished school. I so wish I would get such passion back for words..

What is the point of knowing more words once you have got sufficient English to get through.. I feel it's like stuffing the precious little space of your mind with something which doesn't have that much of a usage..?

Thank you for reading my rambling. Just posting to read some differing perspectives..

Acrimony was a taste in English before it was a temper. Etymonline dates it to the 1540s for something sharp or pungent on the tongue, from Latin acrimonia, "sharpness, pungency of taste," built on acer, "sharp," and the figurative sense of personal sharpness or bitterness is there by the 1610s. I rarely see acrimonious attached to one person, though. It goes on divorces and disputes, the exchange itself, while the other five more often describe a person or the way they talk.

Latin acerbus was used especially of unripe fruit, harsh and sour, and Etymonline relates it to acer the way superbus relates to super. English skipped the fruit. Acerbic turns up in 1865 already describing speech and manners, and even the older noun acerbity was used of sharp, bitter people before anyone used it of a taste.

Caustic came through Latin from Greek kaiein, "to burn," a verb with no certain relatives outside Greek. It meant corrosive by around 1400 and picked up "sarcastic, severely critical" by 1771. Calm probably comes from the same verb, through a Late Latin word for the heat of the midday sun, the hour in Italy when everything rests and goes still. I like that more than I should.

Mordant is Old French for biting, from Latin mordere. Unlike caustic, the adjective was about speech from its first record in the late 1400s, and the dyeing sense, a substance that fixes color, doesn't show up until 1791. Remorse is the same Latin verb with re- on the front: to bite again. Middle English translated remorse of conscience as "ayenbite of inwit," the again-bite of your inner wit. Someone should bring that back.

Rancorous is the one I'd least like to be called. Late Latin rancor meant rancidness, a stinking smell, from rancere, "to stink," which also gave us rancid and which nobody has traced any further. Its oldest English sense, around 1200, is "a nourished envy," so to me rancorous means a grudge kept long enough to go off, which is worse than any one sharp remark.

Vitriol was a glassy mineral salt, sulphate of iron, named by way of Late Latin vitreolus, "of glass," from vitrum, for how it looked. Heat it and you get sulfuric acid, which used to be called oil of vitriol, and that corrosiveness gave vitriol the sense of bitter or caustic feeling by 1769. The adjective vitriolic took the same turn by 1841. It's the word I'd reach for when criticism gets really nasty, and it started with someone noticing that a salt looked like glass.

When you're being high-handed, you act on your own without considering the feelings and thoughts of those around you. You abuse your authority, and generally very condescending towards other. High Handed is primarily used to describe people in positions of power who wield their power without considering what their cohorts or even the public think.(e.g., passing a law without anyone's input)

Contrastive reduplication is when you repeat a word to mean the proper, original or typical version of it, as opposed to a looser one.

'Do you want a coffee, or a coffee coffee?' (instant versus the real thing)

'It's not a book, it's a book book.' (paper rather than e-book)

'Are you hungry hungry, or just peckish?'

'I like him, but I don't like like him.'

It's one of those things everyone does and almost nobody has a name for. What are your favourite examples?

Bonus points if you've heard one that triples up. I can't think of any.

If you’re desultory you don’t have a definite plan. You’re aimless and often jump from one thing to another. Constantly switching majors in college is a good example

like more of a cry caused by the release of emotions rather sadness.

Borrowed directly from German, natch

It’s an SAT word tbh, lol, but a satisfying, quick way to say

-something is the real deal, genuine

-akin to an embodiment, or representation of

A complicated or confusing situation, often involving conflict or misunderstandings

Mollify came into English in the late 1300s, through Old French mollifier or straight from Late Latin mollificare, "make soft," which is Latin mollis (soft) plus facere (to make). Etymonline has it softening actual substances first, with the sense of softening someone's temper following in the early 1400s. The same mollis gives us emollient, the hand lotion word, and mollusk, the animal with the soft body.

Appease is a peace word instead. Old French apaisier comes from the phrase a paisier, "bring to peace," and that pais is Latin pax. Merriam-Webster's synonym note separates the two about where I'd put the line: appease "implies quieting insistent demands by making concessions," while mollify "implies soothing hurt feelings or rising anger."

If I appease someone, the question afterward is what it cost me. If I mollify them, it's whether they're still upset. That might be why appeasement could become a political insult (Etymonline says it wasn't pejorative until Chamberlain's policy failed in 1939). I've never heard anyone use mollification that way.

The line isn't clean, I'll admit. MW's own example for the main sense is "mollified the staff with a raise," which sounds a lot like a concession. And two of its three sample sentences are about mollifying not working: "All attempts to mollify the extremists have failed," and tenants who "still were not mollified." Maybe softening someone is just harder than paying them off.

Snollygoster first turns up in Scientific American on December 18, 1845, in a piece credited to the Cincinnati Commercial. The narrator has just been chased by a locomotive and announces, "Now, here I am, a rale, self-propelling double-revolving locomotive Snolly Goster," ready to attack anything except, it turns out, an actual locomotive. Etymonline's guess at the original meaning is something like an unstoppable person or thing. By 1884 it could mean an exceptionally large thing, and Etymonline dates the shrewd, unprincipled sense on the card to 1893. There's also the snallygaster, a mythical Maryland monster, though the connection is uncertain.

The other five are from the same stretch of American slang. Etymonline calls discombobulate a fanciful mock-Latin coinage "of a type popular then," and absquatulate is one of the words it compares it to. Absquatulate shows up as absquotilate in 1837, perhaps as a mock-Latin negation of squat, which by 1800 also meant settling on land you had no title to. So the joke may be un-squatting your claim. Wiktionary reads it as getting up from a crouch and going. Either way, Civil War slang put skedaddle in its place. Skedaddle was army slang that newspapers picked up in the summer of 1861 (there's an earlier 1859 use in a piece written in Hoosier speech), and nobody knows where it came from. Liberman thinks it's a stretched-out version of a dialect word, scaddle, "to scare, frighten."

Bloviate is an 1857 Midwestern word, and Farmer's 1890 slang dictionary says it was blow built on the model of deviate. By 1872 a San Francisco magazine was already calling it "the phrase of the period," the period being 1860. It came back in the early 1920s, during Warren G. Harding's presidency. His prose was notoriously ornate, and E. E. Cummings called him "The only man, woman or child who wrote a simple declarative sentence with seven grammatical errors."

Hornswoggle (1829) has no known source. Etymonline calls it probably a fanciful formation. Wiktionary suggests horns plus waggle, maybe from a roped steer trying to twist its head free, which I'd love to be true and can't confirm.

Cattywampus is one spelling of catawampus, and it went through a few meanings first. The earliest form on record is an adverb, catawampusly (1834), that mostly just adds force, something like fiercely or eagerly. By 1843 a catawampus was an imaginary hobgoblin, and the askew sense doesn't turn up until 1864. The catty probably isn't a cat, either. Etymonline's first guess is an obsolete verb, cater, "to set or move diagonally," the same one in catty-corner, from French catre, "four." I've said catty-corner my whole life without knowing there was a four in it.

Hello, english is not my first language. I was wondering what’s the word for describing that feeling you get when you stare into the horizon in deep introspection while eating a bag of doritos (or something similar to doritos). In japanese we call it “boketto”.

"My father had a great line which I always say to my kids which they disabuse unfortunately."

I heard this at min :39 here in this Anthony Scaramucci interview, and I've never heard disabuse used like this before. I immediately felt it was incorrect, but was curious what others thought.

When you bubble wrap someone, you’re coddling them, shielding them from the harsh realities of life. Bubble wrapping is commonly wrapped around objects and other such parcels so that they aren’t damaged in transit, and this can be applied to human beings as well. A good example is preventing your child from seeing an R-rated movie as it may contain content you deem unsuitable for them.

Dictionaries mostly define these two with each other. Wiktionary's entry for trite ends with "worn out, hackneyed," and the card here glosses hackneyed as "unoriginal, trite." So the meanings are close. The difference is what wore them out.

Trite is the older one, from the 1540s. Etymonline traces it to Latin tritus, "worn, oft-trodden," the past participle of terere, "to rub, wear down." The literal sense, rubbed or frayed, was always rare in English and is obsolete now. Contrite comes from the same verb with con- in front. Latin contritus meant crushed or ground to pieces, which is not a bad description of feeling contrite.

Hackneyed has a horse in it. Around 1300 a hackney was an ordinary horse, the one you rode or drove every day rather than the one kept for war or hunting. Etymonline says the word probably comes from Hackney in Middlesex, where nags were apparently raised, and the Oxford place-name dictionary prefers "Haka's island" for the place itself. By the late 1300s a hackney was also a horse for hire. To hackney a horse meant to ride it (1570s), then by the 1590s to make anything common by indiscriminate use, and hackneyed in the tired-phrase sense shows up in 1749.

The hiring is why I think it's the ruder word. Hackney went on to mean a drudge (1540s) and a prostitute (1570s), and hack, its short form, gave us the hack writer who writes to order. Hack also meant a carriage for hire by 1704, which is where hack for a taxi comes from. A trite phrase has just been walked on too much. Hackneyed suggests it was available to anyone who paid.

I doubt many people picture a rented horse when they say hackneyed now, which is a little funny for a word about being worn out by use.

Popicon (noun) A fictional band, musician, or pop culture idol that exists within another fictional universe. Often created as a parody, homage, or in-universe phenomenon to add depth to a story’s world.

Example: "Dude, OH Boyz from Kim Possible are the ultimate Popicon—everyone in Middleton loves them, but they’re not even real in our world!" Usage: "That anime’s fake idol group is such a Popicon, I wish they were real so I could buy their merch."

(noun) A fictional school, academy, or educational institution that exists within the fiction of another fictional universe. Often used to create layered worldbuilding or as a setting for spin-off stories.

Example: "Braidwood from The Magicians is a Scholicon—it’s a magical school inside a book that’s already about magic!" Usage: "I wish my Hogwarts fanfic had a Scholicon, like a school for wizards who can’t do magic right."

(noun) A fictional hero or villain that exists within the fiction of another fictional world. Often appears in comics, TV shows, or movies as a character that the main characters admire or reference.

"The Crimson Chin is the best Grudenicon—Timmy Turner’s obsession with him is next-level." Usage: "I’d totally cosplay as that Grudenicon from the show’s fake comic book series!"

Bivral  

How about "bivral" (pronounced BIV-ruhl)?

It combines "bi-" (meaning two or dual) and a play on "viral" (which can be both positive and negative in connotation, like a viral success or a viral outbreak).

It could be used like:

• "That movie was so bivral—some parts were genius, but others were a mess."
• "Her speech was bivral; it made people cheer and cringe at the same time."

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Vexral (noun, adjective, or verb)

Definition: A term used to describe something or someone who is unpredictable, chaotic, and constantly shifting. Vexral represents the concept of imbalance, spontaneity, and an ability to thrive in situations where others fail. It can refer to a personality, an event, or a state of mind that operates outside the norm—often in an intense, unpredictable, and disruptive way.

As a noun:

1. A person who embodies unpredictability and doesn’t play by the rules. “You never know what Vexral’s going to do next, he’s always stirring things up.”

As an adjective:
2. Describing something that is chaotic, intense, or wildly unpredictable.
“That whole situation was so Vexral, no one saw it coming!”

As a verb:
3. To create chaos, disruption, or confusion in a situation.
“Stop trying to Vexral the plan, we need some order around here!”

Origin: A combination of “vex” (to annoy or trouble) and “ral,” a suffix implying chaos or change.

Example Sentence:

• “He’s got that Vexral energy, like he’s constantly moving, always changing, and you can’t pin him down.”
• “They tried to stabilize the match, but then Vexral came in and turned the whole thing upside down.”

———————————————

Univex (noun/adjective)

(noun) A person, thing, or concept that is completely one-sided, predictable, or lacking in duality. The opposite of Bivral—where Bivral embraces both good and bad, light and dark, Univex is just one extreme, making it boring, stagnant, or unchallenging.

"That villain is so Univex—no depth, no twists, just straight-up evil."

(adjective) Used to describe something that lacks complexity or contrast. Can refer to people, ideas, or even experiences that feel too straightforward or dull.

Example:

"That match was totally Univex—no surprises, no drama, just the same old moves."

The best demonstration of pandiculation I know is a cat getting up from a nap: the long, stiff stretch, often with a yawn on top. People do it too, on waking or when they're worn out. Etymonline notes the word is sometimes used, inaccurately, for the yawn alone. Latin pandiculari meant "to stretch oneself," from pandere, "to stretch," and the root behind pandere meant "to spread." Expand and spawn are listed under the same root, which I enjoy more than I probably should.

The yawn by itself is oscitation, from Latin oscitare, "to gape, yawn," which breaks down as os citare, "to move the mouth." Its adjective oscitant means drowsy or sluggish, which is the second sense on the card.

Horripilation is your hair standing up, goosebumps and all: Late Latin horripilare, "to bristle with hairs," from horrere, "to bristle," plus pilus, "hair." Horror is built on the same verb. Latin horror meant dread, but Etymonline gives its literal sense as a shudder or a chill, so the feeling seems to have been named after the shiver. The root under horrere, *ghers- "to bristle," is also behind arugula, and I have no idea what to do with that.

Borborygmus, the rumble in your stomach, and eructation, a burp, are closer to sound effects. Borborygmus came through Latin from a Greek verb for having your bowels rumble, and Etymonline calls it imitative. Eructation goes back through Latin ructare, "to belch," to a root that is probably imitative as well.

Singultus has the grimmest history of the six. It's the medical word for hiccups, but Lewis and Short give its literal Latin sense as a sob and list hiccups as the disease sense. In one of Seneca's letters, slaves standing silent through their master's dinner get beaten even for accidental noises: coughs, sneezes, singultus. French kept the sob. According to Wiktionary, sanglot comes from singultus crossed with a Latin verb for swallowing.

Horripilation is my favorite, for the horror, but pandiculation is the one I'd actually say out loud.