What is another word for Minas?

Pronunciation: [mˈiːnəz] (IPA)

Minas is a Portuguese word that refers to mines or mining. Synonyms for this word include quarry, excavation, pit, dig, shaft, and tunnel. These words are often used interchangeably to describe the process of extracting minerals and resources from the earth. Additionally, the word Minas has a geographical connotation that refers to a number of cities and regions in Brazil and Portugal, including Minas Gerais, Minas Novas, and Minas de Matahambre. In some contexts, Minas may also be used as an abbreviation or nickname for individuals with certain names, such as Minas Panagiotakis or Minas Kafatos.

What are the hypernyms for Minas?

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

Usage examples for Minas

The Minas and Bhils differ in language; whilst the Ramusis and Berdars, probably, exhibit transitional forms of speech.
"The Ethnology of the British Colonies and Dependencies"
Robert Gordon Latham
In Minas Geraes the friends of Pedro obtained possession of the capital, and the patriots had to fight hard to get the better of them.
"The South American Republics Part I of II"
Thomas C. Dawson
These struggles for local self-government-for the right to exist-were not confined to Minas.
"The South American Republics Part I of II"
Thomas C. Dawson

Famous quotes with Minas

  • The best fantasy is written in the language of dreams. It is alive as dreams are alive, more real than real... for a moment at least... that long magic moment before we wake. Fantasy is silver and scarlet, indigo and azure, obsidian veined with gold and lapis lazuli. Reality is plywood and plastic, done up in mud brown and olive drab. Fantasy tastes of habaneros and honey, cinnamon and cloves, rare red meat and wines as sweet as summer. Reality is beans and tofu, and ashes at the end. Reality is the strip malls of Burbank, the smoke-stacks of Cleveland, a parking garage in Newark. Fantasy is the towers of Minas Tirith, the ancient stones of Gormenghast, the halls of Camelot. Fantasy flies on the wings of Icarus, reality on Southwest airlines. Why do our dreams become so much smaller when they finally come true? We read fantasy to find the colors again, I think. To taste strong spices and hear the song the sirens sang. There is something old and true in fantasy that speaks to something deep within us, to the child who dreamt that one day he would hunt the forests of the night, and feast beneath the hollow hills, and find a love to last forever, somewhere south of Oz and north of Shangri-La. They can keep their heaven. When I die, I'd sooner go to Middle Earth.
    George R. R. Martin

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