What is another word for fatuous?

510 synonyms found


[ fˈat͡ʃuːəs], [ fˈat‍ʃuːəs], [ f_ˈa_tʃ_uː_ə_s]

Fatuous is a word that means to be silly or foolish in an utterly pointless manner. When seeking alternatives to this word, there are several other synonyms that can convey this meaning in different ways. These include words like ludicrous, absurd, inane, ridiculous, and nonsensical. Other phrases that can be used to describe this kind of behavior include silly, irrational, absurd, farcical, ridiculous, and nonsensical. Whether it's to point out the foolishness of a particular person's actions or to describe the general absurdity of a situation, using these synonyms can help to convey the same meaning without relying on the same word over and over again.

Synonyms for Fatuous:

What are the hypernyms for Fatuous?

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

What are the opposite words for fatuous?

The word fatuous refers to someone who is foolish or lacking intelligence. Some antonyms for this word include sensible, intelligent, astute, clever, shrewd, smart, and wise. These words describe individuals who are knowledgeable, perceptive, and capable of making informed decisions. A sensible person is able to exercise sound judgement and avoid foolish decisions. An intelligent person is able to think critically and solve complex problems. A shrewd person is clever and cunning, able to maneuver through challenging situations. A wise person possesses deep knowledge and experience, enabling them to make prudent decisions. Antonyms for fatuous are words that describe individuals who are the opposite of foolish and lacking in intelligence.

Usage examples for Fatuous

Doggie, shrinking from a reply that might have sounded fatuous, remained silent; but he realized a wonderful faculty of comprehension in Jeanne.
"The Rough Road"
William John Locke
He inspected it with polite appreciation, while his red-headed friend regarded him with fatuous anxiety.
"The Rough Road"
William John Locke
Blind optimism about life is just as fatuous and just as dangerous as blind pessimism, and if we propose to take charge of life, and to make it over, we shall find that we have to get quickly to the task of deciding what our purpose is.
"The Book of Life: Vol. I Mind and Body; Vol. II Love and Society"
Upton Sinclair

Famous quotes with Fatuous

  • No mistake is more common and more fatuous than appealing to logic in cases which are beyond her jurisdiction.
    Samuel Butler
  • Maybe I couldn't make it. Maybe I don't have a pretty smile, good teeth, nice tits, long legs, a cheeky ass, a sexy voice. Maybe I don't know how to handle men and increase my market value, so that the rewards due to the feminine will accrue to me. Then again, maybe I'm sick of the masquerade. I'm sick of pretending eternal youth. I'm sick of belying my own intelligence, my own will, my own sex. I'm sick of peering at the world through false eyelashes, so everything I see is mixed with a shadow of bought hairs; I'm sick of weighting my head with a dead mane, unable to move my neck freely, terrified of rain, of wind, of dancing too vigorously in case I sweat into my lacquered curls. I'm sick of the Powder Room. I'm sick of pretending that some fatuous male's self-important pronouncements are the objects of my undivided attention, I'm sick of going to films and plays when someone else wants to, and sick of having no opinions of my own about either. I'm sick of being a transvestite. I refuse to be a female impersonator. I am a woman, not a castrate.
    Germaine Greer
  • If we choose a weak and foolish speculation as a primary textbook illustration (falsely assuming that the tale possesses a weight of history and a sanction of evidence), then we are in for trouble - as critics properly nail the particular weakness, and then assume that the whole theory must be in danger if supporters choose such a fatuous case as a primary illustration.
    Stephen Jay Gould
  • What is Time, O sister of similar features, that you speak of it so subserviently? Are we to be the slaves of the sun, that secondhand, overrated knob of gilt, or of his sister, that fatuous circle of silver paper? A curse upon their ridiculous dictatorship!
    Mervyn Peake
  • I can better understand the inert blindness & defiant ignorance of the reactionaries from having been one of them. I know how smugly ignorant was—wrapped up in the arts, the natural (not social) sciences, the of history & antiquarianism, the academic phases of philosophy, & so on—all the one-sided standard lore to which, according to the traditions of the dying order, a liberal education was limited. God! the things that were —the inside facts of history, the rational interpretation of periodic social crises, the foundations of economics & sociology, the actual state of the world today … & above all, the of applying disinterested reason to problems hitherto approached only with traditional genuflections, flag-waving, & callous shoulder-shrugs! All this comes up with humiliating force through an incident of a few days ago—when young Conover, having established contact with Henneberger, the ex-owner of , obtained from the latter a long epistle which I wrote Edwin Baird on Feby. 3, 1924, in response to a request for biographical & personal data. Little Willis asked permission to publish the text in his combined , & I began looking the thing over to see what it was like—for I had not the least recollection of ever having penned it. Well …. I managed to get through, after about 10 closely typed pages of egotistical reminiscences & showing-off & expressions of opinion about mankind & the universe. I did not faint—but I looked around for a 1924 photograph of myself to burn, spit on, or stick pins in! Holy Hades—was that much of a dub at 33 … only 13 years ago? There was no getting out of it—I really thrown all that haughty, complacent, snobbish, self-centred, intolerant bull, & at a mature age when anybody but a perfect damned fool would have known better! That earlier illness had kept me in seclusion, limited my knowledge of the world, & given me something of the fatuous effusiveness of a belated adolescent when I finally able to get around more in 1920, is hardly much of an excuse. Well—there was nothing to be done … except to rush a note back to Conover & tell him I'd dismember him & run the fragments through a sausage-grinder if he ever thought of printing such a thing! The only consolation lay in the reflection that I matured a bit since '24. It's hard to have done all one's growing up since 33—but that's a damn sight better than not growing up at all.
    H. P. Lovecraft

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