What is another word for died down?

Pronunciation: [dˈa͡ɪd dˈa͡ʊn] (IPA)

The phrase "died down" essentially means that something has become less intense or severe. This can be used in many contexts such as the fading of a sound, the calming of a storm, or the decrease of a fever. If you are seeking synonyms for the phrase "died down," some options may include "subsided," "calmed," "abated," "eased off," and "diminished." These words convey a similar sense of reduction or lessening of intensity. Choosing the right synonym can help convey a specific tone or emotion, so it is always important to consider the context when selecting the appropriate word.

What are the hypernyms for Died down?

A hypernym is a word with a broad meaning that encompasses more specific words called hyponyms.

What are the opposite words for died down?

The antonyms for the phrase "died down" refer to the concept of amplification or intensification. Some of the most common antonyms that can be used in place of 'died down' are heightened, escalated, increased, amplified, intensified and strengthened. All of these words imply a sense of growth, excitement, and energy that come from something gaining more prominence or importance. For instance, if a gathering had 'died down', the antonyms would imply that the numbers had 'increased' or the people had 'amplified' their enthusiasm. In essence, using antonyms for 'died down' can help create more compelling and dynamic descriptions of events, activities or emotions.

What are the antonyms for Died down?

Famous quotes with Died down

  • But then all that died down and as far as casting was concerned it didn't really matter that I had been on Broadway.
    Taye Diggs
  • The closest fires were near enough for us to hear the crackling flames and the yells of firemen. Little fires grew into big ones even as we watched. Big ones died down under the firemen's valor only to break out again later.
    Ernie Pyle
  • After the cheers have died down and the stadium is empty, after the headlines have been written and after you are back in the quiet of your room and the championship ring has been placed on the dresser and all the pomp and fanfare has faded, the enduring things that are left are the dedication to excellence, the dedication to victory, and the dedication to doing with our lives the very best we can to make the world a better place in which to live.
    Vince Lombardi
  • There was a time when I should have felt terribly ashamed of not being up-to-date. I lived in a chronic apprehension lest I might, so to speak, miss the last bus, and so find myself stranded and benighted, in a desert of demodedness, while others, more nimble than myself, had already climbed on board, taken their tickets and set out toward those bright but, alas, ever receding goals of Modernity and Sophistication. Now, however, I have grown shameless, I have lost my fears. I can watch unmoved the departure of the last social-cultural bus—the innumerable last buses, which are starting at every instant in all the world’s capitals. I make no effort to board them, and when the noise of each departure has died down, “Thank goodness!” is what I say to myself in the solitude. I find nowadays that I simply don’t want to be up-to-date. I have lost all desire to see and do the things, the seeing and doing of which entitle a man to regard himself as superiorly knowing, sophisticated, unprovincial; I have lost all desire to frequent the places and people that a man simply must frequent, if he is not to be regarded as a poor creature hopelessly out of the swim. “Be up-to-date!” is the categorical imperative of those who scramble for the last bus. But it is an imperative whose cogency I refuse to admit. When it is a question of doing something which I regard as a duty I am as ready as anyone else to put up with discomfort. But being up-to-date and in the swim has ceased, so far as I am concerned, to be a duty. Why should I have my feelings outraged, why should I submit to being bored and disgusted for the sake of somebody else’s categorical imperative? Why? There is no reason. So I simply avoid most of the manifestations of that so-called “life” which my contemporaries seem to be so unaccountably anxious to “see”; I keep out of range of the “art” they think is so vitally necessary to “keep up with”; I flee from those “good times” in the “having” of which they are prepared to spend so lavishly of their energy and cash.
    Aldous Huxley
  • I was sitting on the seashore, half listening to a friend arguing violently about something which merely bored me. Unconsciously to myself, I looked at a film, of sand I had picked up on my hand, when I suddenly saw the exquisite beauty of every little grain of it; instead of being dull, I saw that each particle was made up on a perfect geometrical pattern, with sharp angles, from each of which a brilliant shaft of light was reflected, while each tiny crystal shone like a rainbow. . . . The rays crossed and recrossed, making exquisite patterns of such beauty that they left me breathless. ... Then, suddenly, my consciousness was lighted up from within and I saw in a vivid way how the whole universe was made up of particles of material which, no matter how dull and lifeless they might seem, were nevertheless filled with this intense and vital beauty. For a second or two the whole world appeared as a blaze of glory. When it died down, it left me with something I have never forgotten and which constantly reminds me of the beauty locked up in every minute speck of material around us.
    Aldous Huxley

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