What is another word for sicken?

Pronunciation: [sˈɪkən] (IPA)

The word "sicken" refers to the process of undergoing a decline in physical or emotional health. There are several synonyms for this word, such as "nauseate," "repel," and "disgust." Other words that can be used in place of "sicken" include "revolt," "unsettle," "turn off," and "sour." These synonyms can be used when describing a feeling, emotion, or state of being that causes discomfort or illness. They are also useful when describing situations or events that are particularly unpleasant or disturbing. By utilizing different synonyms for "sicken," writers can add variety and nuance to their language and convey more complex ideas.

Synonyms for Sicken:

What are the hypernyms for Sicken?

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

What are the hyponyms for Sicken?

Hyponyms are more specific words categorized under a broader term, known as a hypernym.

What are the opposite words for sicken?

The opposite of sicken is to heal, cure, or recover. If something makes us ill, then we want to eliminate or reverse that effect by taking medication, resting, or seeking medical help. Some other antonyms of sicken include flourish, thrive, prosper, and blooming. When we are in good health, we can enjoy our lives and achieve our goals. Therefore, it is essential to maintain a healthy lifestyle by eating nutritious food, exercising regularly, and staying away from harmful practices. By doing so, we can ensure that we are not sick, but rather feel healthy and energetic to live life to the fullest.

What are the antonyms for Sicken?

Usage examples for Sicken

But the next glance was destined to sicken him yet more.
"The Luck of Gerard Ridgeley"
Bertram Mitford
I sicken with disgust!
"One Maid's Mischief"
George Manville Fenn
These proceedings sicken him; this hoarse screaming offends his ear; these coarse jests hurt him.
"The Silent Mill"
Hermann Sudermann

Famous quotes with Sicken

  • Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory; Odors, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken.
    Percy Bysshe Shelley
  • They sicken at the calm that know the storm.
    Dorothy Parker
  • They sicken of the calm that know the storm.
    Dorothy Parker
  • I can understand the ignorant masses loving to soak themselves in drink—oh, yes, it's very shocking that they should, of course—very shocking to us who live in cozy homes, with all the graces and pleasures of life around us, that the dwellers in damp cellars and windy attics should creep from their dens of misery into the warmth and glare of the public-house bar, and seek to float for a brief space away from their dull world upon a Lethe stream of gin. But think, before you hold up your hands in horror at their ill-living, what "life" for these wretched creatures really means. Picture the squalid misery of their brutish existence, dragged on from year to year in the narrow, noisome room where, huddled like vermin in sewers, they welter, and sicken, and sleep; where dirt-grimed children scream and fight and sluttish, shrill-voiced women cuff, and curse, and nag; where the street outside teems with roaring filth and the house around is a bedlam of riot and stench. Think what a sapless stick this fair flower of life must be to them, devoid of mind and soul. The horse in his stall scents the sweet hay and munches the ripe corn contentedly. The watch-dog in his kennel blinks at the grateful sun, dreams of a glorious chase over the dewy fields, and wakes with a yelp of gladness to greet a caressing hand. But the clod-like life of these human logs never knows one ray of light. From the hour when they crawl from their comfortless bed to the hour when they lounge back into it again they never live one moment of real life. Recreation, amusement, companionship, they know not the meaning of. Joy, sorrow, laughter, tears, love, friendship, longing, despair, are idle words to them. From the day when their baby eyes first look out upon their sordid world to the day when, with an oath, they close them forever and their bones are shoveled out of sight, they never warm to one touch of human sympathy, never thrill to a single thought, never start to a single hope. In the name of the God of mercy; let them pour the maddening liquor down their throats and feel for one brief moment that they live!
    Jerome K. Jerome
  • As man loses touch with his 'inner being', his instinctive depths, he finds himself trapped in the world of consciousness, that is to say, . Any poet knows this truth; when other people sicken him, he turns to hidden resources of power inside himself, and he knows then that other people don't matter a damn. He knows the 'secret life' inside him is the reality; other people are mere shadows in comparison. but the 'shadows' themselves cling to one another. 'Man is a political animal', said Aristotle, telling one of the greatest lies in human history. Man has more in common with the hills, or with the stars, than with other men.
    Aristotle

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