Library / English Dictionary

    NOUGHT

    Pronunciation (US): Play  (GB): Play

     I. (noun) 

    Sense 1

    Meaning:

    A mathematical element that when added to another number yields the same numberplay

    Synonyms:

    0; cipher; cypher; nought; zero

    Classified under:

    Nouns denoting quantities and units of measure

    Hypernyms ("nought" is a kind of...):

    digit; figure (one of the elements that collectively form a system of numeration)

    Credits

     Context examples: 

    “There is nought amiss with the Lady Mary or with the Lady Maude?”

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    Am I a child, that I should ride for three days and nought but words at the end of it?

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    You are of such value to me, he cried, in a whirl of hot, passionate words, that all else has become nought.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    You rammucky lurden, she was howling, with a blow between each catch of her breath, you shammocking, yaping, over-long good-for-nought.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    It was this very morning that Norbury, my squire, lamed his horse in riding round in quest of one, for we have a bag of truffles, and nought to eat with them.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    Yet it were madness to spring for that narrow slit with nought but the wet, smooth rock to cling to.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    “It is nought,” answered his squire, stanching the blood which dripped from a sword-cut across his forehead.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    It is scarce likely, he said, that Sir Claude Latour should send me all the way across seas with nought more weighty than a psalm-verse.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    But the vow is now nought, for, as you have never seen your company, it would be a fool's act to blame you for their doings.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

    Man, man, cried Sir Oliver, your mind still runs on nought but blades and bassinets.

    (The White Company, by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)


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