name (n.)
- acclaim
- alias
- appellation
- appellative
- baron
- bigwig
- brass
- byname
- byword
- call
- celebrity
- character
- cite
- cognomen
- constellation
- cynosure
- delegate
- denomination
- designation
- dignitary
- dignity
- distinction
- document
- dub
- eclat
- elder
- elect
- eminence
- epithet
- eponym
- esteem
- example
- fame
- father
- favor
- figure
- finger
- fix
- forename
- galaxy
- glory
- grand
- great
- handle
- heavyweight
- hero
- heroine
- honor
- honorific
- hyponym
- idol
- immortal
- instance
- interests
- kudos
- label
- lion
- luminary
- magnate
- major
- make
- mark
- material
- mention
- mogul
- moniker
- nabob
- namesake
- nickname
- nomen
- notability
- notable
- notoriety
- ordinate
- panjandrum
- personage
- personality
- pinpoint
- popularity
- power
- prestige
- prominence
- publicity
- quote
- rank
- rating
- recognition
- renown
- report
- reputation
- repute
- respect
- rubric
- run
- sachem
- set
- sobriquet
- somebody
- something
- standing
- star
- state
- style
- superior
- superiority
- superstar
- symbol
- tab
- tag
- tap
- term
- ticket
- title
- tycoon
- vogue
- worthy
name (v.)
- acclaim
- advertise
- announce
- appoint
- assign
- baptize
- call
- character
- choose
- christen
- cite
- declare
- define
- delegate
- demonstrate
- denominate
- denote
- designate
- determine
- distinction
- document
- dub
- elect
- entitle
- esteem
- exemplify
- fame
- father
- favor
- figure
- finger
- fix
- glory
- handle
- honor
- identify
- illustrate
- indicate
- instance
- itemize
- label
- lion
- major
- make
- mark
- material
- mention
- nickname
- nominate
- ordain
- ordinate
- particularize
- pinpoint
- power
- propose
- publish
- quote
- rank
- recognize
- report
- repute
- respect
- rubric
- run
- select
- set
- signify
- specialize
- specify
- star
- state
- stigmatize
- stipulate
- style
- submit
- superior
- symbolize
- tab
- tag
- tap
- term
- ticket
- title
- typify
name (adv.)
What song the Sirens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women.
Ah Sin was his name.
For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable speeches, to foreign nations, and to the next ages.
He left the name at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
And if his name be George, I 'll call him Peter;
For new-made honour doth forget men's names.
From all who dwell below the skies
Let the Creator's praise arise;
Let the Redeemer's name be sung
Through every land, by every tongue.
There be of them that have left a name behind them.
Farewell! if ever fondest prayer
For other's weal avail'd on high,
Mine will not all be lost in air,
But waft thy name beyond the sky.
Oh, breathe not his name! let it sleep in the shade,
Where cold and unhonour'd his relics are laid,
Oh call it by some better name,
For friendship sounds too cold.
Tongue nor heart
Cannot conceive nor name thee!
Call things by their right names. . . . Glass of brandy and water! That is the current but not the appropriate name: ask for a glass of liquid fire and distilled damnation.
A deed without a name.
Some to the fascination of a name
Surrender judgment hoodwink'd.
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing;
'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.
Charm'd with the foolish whistling of a name.
Officious, innocent, sincere,
Of every friendless name the friend.
A good name is better than precious ointment.
A good name is better than riches.
A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.
Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls:
Who steals my purse steals trash; 't is something, nothing;
'T was mine, 't is his, and has been slave to thousands;
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.
And thus he bore without abuse
The grand old name of gentleman,
Defamed by every charlatan,
And soil'd with all ignoble use.
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine,
His honour and the greatness of his name
Shall be, and make new nations.
Above any Greek or Roman name.
Halloo your name to the reverberate hills,
And make the babbling gossip of the air
Cry out.
I fled, and cry'd out, Death!
Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd
From all her caves, and back resounded, Death!
Oh no! we never mention her,—
Her name is never heard;
My lips are now forbid to speak
That once familiar word.
Satan; so call him now, his former name
Is heard no more in heaven.
'T is pleasant, sure, to see one's name in print;
A book's a book, although there's nothing in 't.
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike home.
Your name is great
In mouths of wisest censure.
My name is Legion.
My foot is on my native heath, and my name is MacGregor.
My name is Norval; on the Grampian hills
My father feeds his flocks; a frugal swain,
Whose constant cares were to increase his store,
And keep his only son, myself, at home.
Frailty, thy name is woman!
The king's name is a tower of strength.
Her face is like the milky way i' the sky,—
A meeting of gentle lights without a name.
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet
Are of imagination all compact:
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold,
That is, the madman: the lover, all as frantic,
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt:
The poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling,
Doth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven;
And as imagination bodies forth
The forms of things unknown, the poet's pen
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing
A local habitation and a name.
Such tricks hath strong imagination,
That if it would but apprehend some joy,
It comprehends some bringer of that joy;
Or in the night, imagining some fear,
How easy is a bush supposed a bear!
The cold in clime are cold in blood,
Their love can scarce deserve the name.
Who hath not own'd, with rapture-smitten frame,
The power of grace, the magic of a name?
And last of all an Admiral came,
A terrible man with a terrible name,—
A name which you all know by sight very well,
But which no one can speak, and no one can spell.
Who builds a church to God and not to fame,
Will never mark the marble with his name.
One to destroy is murder by the law,
And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
To murder thousands takes a specious name,
War's glorious art, and gives immortal fame.
Shall victor exult, or in death be laid low,
With his back to the field and his feet to the foe,
And leaving in battle no blot on his name,
Look proudly to heaven from the death-bed of fame.
"But what good came of it at last?"
Quoth little Peterkin.
"Why, that I cannot tell," said he;
"But 't was a famous victory."
I name no parties.
To be, or not to be: that is the question:
Whether 't is nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them? To die: to sleep:
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heartache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to,—'t is a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub:
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life;
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office and the spurns
That patient merit of the unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscover'd country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all;
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pith and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.
This day is called the feast of Crispian:
He that outlives this day and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
In the name of the Prophet—figs.
The name of the slough was Despond.
In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the world; as to say, "The world says," or "There is a speech abroad."
It beareth the name of Vanity Fair, because the town where 't is kept is lighter than vanity.
Oh, Amos Cottle! Phoebus! what a name!
The surest pledge of a deathless name
Is the silent homage of thoughts unspoken.
If parts allure thee, think how Bacon shin'd,
The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind!
Or ravish'd with the whistling of a name,
See Cromwell, damn'd to everlasting fame!
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
But sure the eye of time beholds no name
So blest as thine in all the rolls of fame.
If I speak to thee in friendship's name,
Thou think'st I speak too coldly;
If I mention love's devoted flame,
Thou say'st I speak too boldly.
He left the name at which the world grew pale,
To point a moral, or adorn a tale.
It is for homely features to keep home,—
They had their name thence; coarse complexions
And cheeks of sorry grain will serve to ply
The sampler and to tease the huswife's wool.
What need a vermeil-tinctur'd lip for that,
Love-darting eyes, or tresses like the morn?
May see thee now, though late, redeem thy name,
And glorify what else is damn'd to fame.
O thou invisible spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, let us call thee devil!
Small have continual plodders ever won
Save base authority from others' books.
These earthly godfathers of heaven's lights
That give a name to every fixed star
Have no more profit of their shining nights
Than those that walk and wot not what they are.
A name unmusical to the Volscians' ears,
And harsh in sound to thine.
Here lies one whose name was writ in water.
Drink ye to her that each loves best!
And if you nurse a flame
That's told but to her mutual breast,
We will not ask her name.
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep,
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
And leaves the wretch to weep?
What's in a name? That which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as sweet.
I cannot tell what the dickens his name is.
And last of all an Admiral came,
A terrible man with a terrible name,—
A name which you all know by sight very well,
But which no one can speak, and no one can spell.
Thrice happy he whose name has been well spelt
In the despatch: I knew a man whose loss
Was printed Grove, although his name was Grose.
Sound, sound the clarion, fill the fife!
To all the sensual world proclaim,
One crowded hour of glorious life
Is worth an age without a name.
Perhaps Dundee's wild-warbling measures rise,
Or plaintive Martyrs, worthy of the name.
