What is another word for without warning?

Pronunciation: [wɪðˌa͡ʊt wˈɔːnɪŋ] (IPA)

Without warning is a phrase often used to describe something that happens suddenly and unexpectedly. However, there are several synonyms that can be used to convey the same meaning. One of these is suddenly, which describes an event that happens quickly and unexpectedly. Another synonym is abruptly, which refers to something that stops or starts abruptly and without warning. Another option is unanticipated, which means something that is not expected. Lastly, the phrase out of the blue can also be used, which means something that happens without warning or explanation. These synonyms can be helpful in providing variety in writing and expressing the same idea in multiple ways.

Synonyms for Without warning:

What are the hypernyms for Without warning?

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

What are the opposite words for without warning?

Antonyms for the phrase "without warning" are words that imply a prior indication or sign was given. Prepared, anticipated, and forewarned are among the most common antonyms used in this context. Prophesied and predicted also work in some situations. Expecting and awaiting are antonyms that hint at a state of readiness, while scheduled and arranged imply that an event was pre-planned. Finally, the word "expected" is an antonym that is often associated with the anticipation of a forthcoming event, and "predictable" refers to situations that are expected to happen. Using the right antonym for "without warning" can help you effectively communicate the level of expectedness in a specific context.

What are the antonyms for Without warning?

Famous quotes with Without warning

  • Wouldn't it be weird if the only way people could die was that their heads suddenly exploded without warning If there was simply no other cause of death One day you'd be sitting there having a hot chocolate, and suddenly your head would explode.
  • I treat vegetarianism as a phase that might any second end without warning.
    Amit Chaudhuri
  • The supermarket shelves have been rearranged. It happened one day without warning. There is agitation and panic in the aisles, dismay in the faces of older shoppers.[…]They scrutinize the small print on packages, wary of a second level of betrayal. The men scan for stamped dates, the women for ingredients. Many have trouble making out the words. Smeared print, ghost images. In the altered shelves, the ambient roar, in the plain and heartless fact of their decline, they try to work their way through confusion. But in the end it doesn’t matter what they see or think they see. The terminals are equipped with holographic scanners, which decode the binary secret of every item, infallibly. This is the language of waves and radiation, or how the dead speak to the living. And this is where we wait together, regardless of our age, our carts stocked with brightly colored goods. A slowly moving line, satisfying, giving us time to glance at the tabloids in the racks. Everything we need that is not food or love is here in the tabloid racks. The tales of the supernatural and the extraterrestrial. The miracle vitamins, the cures for cancer, the remedies for obesity. The cults of the famous and the dead.
    Don DeLillo
  • I shut my eyes and clenched my hands behind me and saw, in lightning flashes, myself doing ferocious things, like pushing him down an endless flight of stairs, or dropping him without warning into a bottomless well, or stringing him up to a stout beam and leaving him to dangle, or — or other things of the sort; no guns, no knives, no baseball bats, nothing to cause outright bloodshed, just silent, grim, sudden murder by hand was my intention. All this was far beyond my bodily powers of course, and I like to believe beyond my criminal powers too. For I woke when we struck the searing hot light of the August morning as if I had come out of a nightmare, horrified at my own thoughts and feeling as if I had got some incurable wound to my very humanity — as indeed I had. However inflicted, a wound there was, with painful scar tissue, left upon my living self by that appalling event. My conscience stirs as if, in my impulse to do violence to my enemy, I had assisted at his crime.
    Katherine Anne Porter
  • I’ve never found anything in occult literature that seemed to have a bearing. You know, the occult—very much like stories of supernatural horror—is a sort of game. Most religions, too. Believe in the game and accept its rules—or the premises of the story—and you can have the thrills or whatever it is you’re after. Accept the spirit world and you can see ghosts and talk to the dear departed. Accept Heaven and you can have the hope of eternal life and the reassurance of an all-powerful god working on your side. Accept Hell and you can have devils and demons, if that’s what you want. Accept—if only for story purposes—witchcraft, druidism, shamanism, magic or some modern variant and you can have werewolves, vampires, elementals. Or believe in the influence and power of a grave, an ancient house or monument, a dead religion, or an old stone with an inscription on it—and you can have inner things of the same general sort. But I’m thinking of the kind of horror—and wonder too, perhaps—that lies beyond any game, that’s bigger than any game, that’s fettered by no rules, conforms to no man-made theology, bows to no charms or protective rituals, that strides the world unseen and strikes without warning where it will, much the same as (though it’s of a different order of existence than all of these) lightning or the plague or the enemy atom bomb. The sort of horror that the whole fabric of civilization was designed to protect us from and make us forget. The horror about which all man’s learning tells us nothing.
    Fritz Leiber

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