Shrivel
[ʃrɪv(ə)l] or ['ʃrɪvl]
Definition
(verb.) wither, as with a loss of moisture; 'The fruit dried and shriveled'.
Inputed by Chris--From WordNet
Definition
(v. i.) To draw, or be drawn, into wrinkles; to shrink, and form corrugations; as, a leaf shriveles in the hot sun; the skin shrivels with age; -- often with up.
(v. t.) To cause to shrivel or contract; to cause to shrink onto corruptions.
Typist: Robinson
Synonyms and Synonymous
v. a. Parch, dry, dry up.
v. n. Shrink, contract, dwindle, wither, decrease.
Typist: Malcolm
Synonyms and Antonyms
SYN:Contract, dry_up, wither, wrinkle, corrugate, decrease
ANT:expand, flatten, develop, unfold, spread, dilate
Checker: Mario
Definition
v.i. and v.t. to contract into wrinkles: to blight:—pr.p. shriv′elling; pa.t. and pa.p. shriv′elled.
Checked by Darren
Examples
- If you do, Robert, I'll take Shakespeare away; and I'll shrivel up within myself, and put on my bonnet and go home. Charlotte Bronte. Shirley.
- We've got to bust it completely, or shrivel inside it, as in a tight skin. D. H. Lawrence. Women in Love .
- The girl did not answer, but she felt her heart shrivel within her. Edgar Rice Burroughs. Tarzan of the Apes.
- The curtain drew up--shrivelled to the ceiling: the bright lights, the long room, the gay throng, burst upon us. Charlotte Bronte. Villette.
- The chances and changes, the wanderings and dangers of months and months past, all shrank and shrivelled to nothing in my mind. Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- Contempt fell cool on Mr. Rochester--his passion died as if a blight had shrivelled it up: he only asked--What have _you_ to say? Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- It was not merely that they were weazened and shrivelled--though they were certainly that too--but they looked absolutely ferocious with discontent. Charles Dickens. Bleak House.
- An Italian was grinding an organ before the shop, and a miserable little shrivelled monkey was sitting on the instrument. Wilkie Collins. The Woman in White.
- All was shrivelled and dried up, except these lights; her voice too was fearfully changed, as she spoke to me at intervals. Mary Shelley. The Last Man.
- I clasped her shrivelled hand: Are you indeed so ill? Mary Shelley. The Last Man.
- He had her in his arms, her face like a wet flower at his lips, and all their vain terrors shrivelling up like ghosts at sunrise. Edith Wharton. The Age of Innocence.
Checker: Rita