Throb
[θrɒb] or [θrɑb]
Definition
(noun.) an instance of rapid strong pulsation (of the heart); 'he felt a throbbing in his head'.
(noun.) a deep pulsating type of pain.
(verb.) pulsate or pound with abnormal force; 'my head is throbbing'; 'Her heart was throbbing'.
Edited by Ahmed--From WordNet
Definition
(v. i.) To beat, or pulsate, with more than usual force or rapidity; to beat in consequence of agitation; to palpitate; -- said of the heart, pulse, etc.
(n.) A beat, or strong pulsation, as of the heart and arteries; a violent beating; a papitation:
Editor: Shanna
Synonyms and Synonymous
v. n. Beat, palpitate, pulsate.
n. Beat, beating, pulsation, palpitation, throbbing.
Editor: Rosanne
Definition
v.i. to beat or palpitate as the heart or pulse with more than usual force:—pr.p. throb′bing; pa.t. and pa.p. throbbed.—n. a beat or strong pulsation.—adv. Throb′bingly.—adj. Throb′less.
Typist: Ollie
Examples
- Is it the secret instinct of decaying nature, or the soul's impulsive throb, as immortality draws on? Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom's Cabin.
- First, I smiled to myself and felt elate; but this fierce pleasure subsided in me as fast as did the accelerated throb of my pulses. Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
- Rosedale had spoken then--this was the way men talked of her--She felt suddenly weak and defenceless: there was a throb of self-pity in her throat. Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- He reflected with a throb of pride that Lily could trim her own hats--she had told him so the day of their walk at Bellomont. Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- Both the girls felt their faces glow and their pulses throb; both knew they would do no good by rushing down into the _mêlée_. Charlotte Bronte. Shirley.
- Not one throb of anguish, not one tear of the oppressed, is forgotten by the Man of Sorrows, the Lord of Glory. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom's Cabin.
- A passing seraph seemed to have rested beside me, leaned towards my heart, and reposed on its throb a softening, cooling, healing, hallowing wing. Charlotte Bronte. Villette.
- He made no answer to this exclamation, and for a while they sat silent, while something throbbed between them in the wide quiet of the air. Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- My eyes were bloodshot, starting from my head; every artery beat, methought, audibly, every muscle throbbed, each single nerve felt. Mary Shelley. The Last Man.
- NoI think I should have sneaked past in terror of a rebuff from Disappointment: my heart throbbed now as if I already heard the tramp of her approach. Charlotte Bronte. Villette.
- His heart throbbed loud and quick. Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell. North and South.
- I pulled and felt the live weight of the trout and then the line throbbed again. Ernest Hemingway. A Farewell To Arms.
- His soul throbbed,--his home was in sight,--and the hour of release seemed at hand. Harriet Beecher Stowe. Uncle Tom's Cabin.
- My heart throbbed fast; the pulses at my temples beat furiously. Wilkie Collins. The Moonstone.
- He had positive bodily pain,--a violent headache, and a throbbing intermittent pulse. Elizabeth Cleghorn Gaskell. North and South.
- Puzzledout of breath, all my pulses throbbing in inevitable agitation, I knew not where to turn. Charlotte Bronte. Villette.
- But she sat on in silence, her soul weeping, throbbing violently, her fingers twisting her handkerchief. D. H. Lawrence. Women in Love .
- But Lily, though her attitude was as calm as his, was throbbing inwardly with a rush of thoughts. Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- Then he heard the first high, throbbing murmur of a plane coming. Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom The Bell Tolls.
- But poor Lydgate had a throbbing pain within him, and his energy had fallen short of its task. George Eliot. Middlemarch.
- Then the plane was overhead, its shadows passing over the open glade, the throbbing reaching its maximum of portent. Hemingway, Ernest. For Whom The Bell Tolls.
- The age of iron is not yet supreme, For youth still throbs in the old veins of Mother Earth, wan and weary with sorrowful centuries. Fergus Hume. The Island of Fantasy.
- No; but my heart throbs fast. Charlotte Bronte. Shirley.
- Again she felt her colour change; again her heart rose in precipitate throbs to meet what she felt was coming. Edith Wharton. The House of Mirth.
- Out of pity to me and yourself, put your finger on my pulse, feel how it throbs, and--beware! Charlotte Bronte. Jane Eyre.
Inputed by Huntington