"apess" meaning in All languages combined

{
  "etymology_templates": [
    {
      "args": {
        "1": "en",
        "2": "ape",
        "3": "ess"
      },
      "expansion": "ape + -ess",
      "name": "suffix"
    }
  ],
  "etymology_text": "From ape + -ess.",
  "forms": [
    {
      "form": "apesses",
      "tags": [
        "plural"
      ]
    }
  ],
  "head_templates": [
    {
      "args": {},
      "expansion": "apess (plural apesses)",
      "name": "en-noun"
    }
  ],
  "lang": "English",
  "lang_code": "en",
  "pos": "noun",
  "senses": [
    {
      "categories": [
        {
          "kind": "other",
          "name": "English entries with incorrect language header",
          "parents": [
            "Entries with incorrect language header",
            "Entry maintenance"
          ],
          "source": "w"
        },
        {
          "kind": "other",
          "name": "English terms suffixed with -ess",
          "parents": [],
          "source": "w"
        },
        {
          "kind": "lifeform",
          "langcode": "en",
          "name": "Female animals",
          "orig": "en:Female animals",
          "parents": [
            "Animals",
            "Female",
            "Lifeforms",
            "Gender",
            "All topics",
            "Life",
            "Biology",
            "Psychology",
            "Sociology",
            "Fundamental",
            "Nature",
            "Sciences",
            "Social sciences",
            "Society"
          ],
          "source": "w"
        }
      ],
      "examples": [
        {
          "ref": "1865, Richard Francis Burton, “Dirge.”, in Stone Talk (Λιθοφωνημα / Lithophonema): Being Some of the Marvellous Sayings of a Petral Portion of Fleet Street, London, to One Doctor Polyglott, Ph.D., London: Hardwicke, Robert, pages 20–21",
          "text": "Ah, what a sight were you when first / By freak of matter Adam* burst / Through Simian womb! / Scant then man’s prate / Of human nature’s high estate. / Yet, though his limbs with pile were rough, / And though his tail was long enough / (You smile, reformed orang-utang! / Have I not seen th’ appendage hang / About your ends, till wear and tear / Curtailed the terminating hair? / Type of the subtype Simiadæ! / King of the genus Chimpanzee! / There! feel the place! ’tis even now / In loco if not in statu quo), / Th’ apesses treated with disdain— / Half-handed thing with double brain, / With brow protruding all before, / Trachea formed to squeak and roar, / With shortened arms and thumbless feet, / Circular paunch, and rounded seat; / That chattered with such couthless sound, / And walked, not crawled, upon the ground. / Such your forefather. Yet, when he / Was grown to lusty puberty, / Superior ingenuity / Taught him with score of apes to mate, / And thus kind to propagate.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1870 November 18, William Darwin Fox, letter to Charles Darwin",
          "text": "I must run over & see you some day. Why not you & Mʳˢ Darwin run over here, when you have finished your Book—you can study my little Apes & Apesses—Kindest regards to Mʳˢ Darwin & thanks for her note—Always yours Affecˡʸ / W D Fox",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1884, The Spectator, volume 57, Poetry. In the Beginning., page 1173",
          "text": "August, year unknown; time, Six o’clock in the morning; / Sate in a tree an Ape; irrational; eating an apple, / Raw; no cook as yet, no house, no shred of a garment; / Soul, a blank; taste, nil; a thumb but slowly beginning; / Warranted wholly an Ape, a great Jack-ape o’ the forest, / Jabbering, hairy, grim, arboreal wholly in habits. / So he sate on till Noon, when, hushed in slumber around him, / Everything lay dead; all save the murmuring insect, / Whose small voice still spake, proclaiming silence. Awaking / Suddenly then he rose, and thinking scorn of his fellows / Longed to be quit of them all, his Apess specially. She, dear, / Knew no dream, no vision; her Apelet playing about her / All her thought, her care! At Four, he finally left her, / Went to live by himself, but felt a pang—’twas a conscience / Budding, in germ! yet went; then stopped to bathe in a fountain; /[…] / B.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1923, Paul Rosenfeld, Musical Chronicle (1917–1923), page 81",
          "text": "The melodic line is bitter-sweet; the rhythms lift their heavy limbs in frenetic dance; the piled-up fourths pierce the ear with their cruel brilliance. The texture and timbre of the sounds are eastern; eastern not with the sugary orientalism of Rimsky and his fellowship, but with a pungence, a wildness, a subtlety which evokes the desert and the tropical swamp, the lushness and terribleness of the forests of the night, the spice and heat of the straits. The white-robed prophet and the hairy ape both speak. / And the work is more complex and developed a conception than any of Bloch’s earlier compositions, the quartet not expected. A grimacing irony and a light irresponsible gayety hitherto absent from his moods manifest themselves for the first time in the suite; the four movements, homogeneous although they are, show four distinct faces. The first, after the introductory page, with its corkscrew shrilling of fifes, its grave bitter brooding of the solo instrument, its many lamentful tones of blindly groping, bleeding life, is a sort of gigue triste. Something dances in relentless activity; something at once an insect swarm in May, and a tribe of little brown men at a phallic feast, and steel bobbins and shuttles. The second movement, the allegro ironico, is a variation on the well-known theme “Je m’en fous.” An ape-like mockery whinnies through it. Cocoanuts are shied at all the four corners of the world. Some of them display a mysterious tendency to fall near the spot where the apess sits weeping over the children.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1939, James Bridie, One Way of Living, page 196",
          "text": "In negroes and in anthropoid apes, the index finger is much shorter than the ring finger. In negresses and in anthropoid apesses, the index finger is often longer. Out of 600 Europeans of both sexes, 500 have longer ring fingers and 100 longer index fingers.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1986, Rikki Ducornet, Entering Fire, Chatto & Windus, page 142",
          "text": "I stalk you now in the comforting shadow of her idiotic hedges. The apess doesn’t look her age. I smell hanky-panky: perhaps P’pa has discovered the Fountain of Youth. She’s as limber as an eel, indefatigable: prunes and mows and rakes like a trooper, kindles fires, chattering all the while to the birds in the trees – a regular St Francis of Ape-isity! I’d crack her little skull if I could – self-satisfied seweress!",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1998 April 20, Geoff Miller, “Re: The Tuneless Whistler -- a trial of patience!”, in alt.peeves (Usenet), message-ID <geoffmEroyF8.79L@netcom.com>",
          "text": "> In Nature, males of all persuasions make more noise than females, / > mostly. / Bull-fucking-shit. Well, maybe if you're talking about birds, but that's about it. The compulsive and voluminous chattering amongst the distaff set renders that one patently false in one swell foop, I daresay. At least among the Yoomuns. I dunno; do apesses screech more than male orangutans 'n' gorillae? If so, how much of it is gossip and how much is nagging?",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "2000, “The Life Cycle” (Part I), in Michèle Plott, Lauri Umansky, editors, Making Sense of Women’s Lives: An Introduction to Women’s Studies, Collegiate Press, Women Working: Germaine Greer, “Work”, page 201",
          "text": "Women are worker bees; males are drones. Lionesses do the hunting to feed their cubs and their father; apesses do all the child-rearing. Male animals are conspicuously less busy than females, yet somehow the human male has convinced the human female that he, not she, is the worker.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "2009, Stephen Perkinson, “Chapter Three: The Vocabulary of Likeness at the Late Fourteenth-Century French Court”, in The Likeness of the King: A Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France, University of Chicago Press, Conclusion: “Counterfeiting” Nature, ca. 1400, page 186",
          "text": "In 1406 or 1407, Christine de Pizan noted that ancient authors claimed that “art wishes to follow nature.” To clarify this point, Christine explains that art follows nature “when a worker properly contrefait a thing that nature has made.” As an example, she cites the case of a “painter who shall be so great a worker that he will depict the appearance of a man in so lively (si sur le vif) and so proper a fashion that everyone will recognize it, or a bird, or another beast,” and she notes that a sculptor would do likewise. She then remarks that some people refer to art as the “apess or ape of nature, because just as the apess greatly imitates the manners of humans, art greatly imitates the works of nature.”¹⁴⁵",
          "type": "quotation"
        }
      ],
      "glosses": [
        "A female ape."
      ],
      "id": "en-apess-en-noun-dq7WpR44",
      "links": [
        [
          "female",
          "female"
        ],
        [
          "ape",
          "ape"
        ]
      ],
      "tags": [
        "rare"
      ],
      "translations": [
        {
          "code": "sv",
          "lang": "Swedish",
          "sense": "female ape",
          "tags": [
            "common-gender"
          ],
          "word": "apinja"
        }
      ]
    }
  ],
  "word": "apess"
}

{
  "etymology_templates": [
    {
      "args": {
        "1": "en",
        "2": "ape",
        "3": "ess"
      },
      "expansion": "ape + -ess",
      "name": "suffix"
    }
  ],
  "etymology_text": "From ape + -ess.",
  "forms": [
    {
      "form": "apesses",
      "tags": [
        "plural"
      ]
    }
  ],
  "head_templates": [
    {
      "args": {},
      "expansion": "apess (plural apesses)",
      "name": "en-noun"
    }
  ],
  "lang": "English",
  "lang_code": "en",
  "pos": "noun",
  "senses": [
    {
      "categories": [
        "English countable nouns",
        "English entries with incorrect language header",
        "English lemmas",
        "English nouns",
        "English rare terms",
        "English terms suffixed with -ess",
        "English terms with quotations",
        "en:Female animals"
      ],
      "examples": [
        {
          "ref": "1865, Richard Francis Burton, “Dirge.”, in Stone Talk (Λιθοφωνημα / Lithophonema): Being Some of the Marvellous Sayings of a Petral Portion of Fleet Street, London, to One Doctor Polyglott, Ph.D., London: Hardwicke, Robert, pages 20–21",
          "text": "Ah, what a sight were you when first / By freak of matter Adam* burst / Through Simian womb! / Scant then man’s prate / Of human nature’s high estate. / Yet, though his limbs with pile were rough, / And though his tail was long enough / (You smile, reformed orang-utang! / Have I not seen th’ appendage hang / About your ends, till wear and tear / Curtailed the terminating hair? / Type of the subtype Simiadæ! / King of the genus Chimpanzee! / There! feel the place! ’tis even now / In loco if not in statu quo), / Th’ apesses treated with disdain— / Half-handed thing with double brain, / With brow protruding all before, / Trachea formed to squeak and roar, / With shortened arms and thumbless feet, / Circular paunch, and rounded seat; / That chattered with such couthless sound, / And walked, not crawled, upon the ground. / Such your forefather. Yet, when he / Was grown to lusty puberty, / Superior ingenuity / Taught him with score of apes to mate, / And thus kind to propagate.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1870 November 18, William Darwin Fox, letter to Charles Darwin",
          "text": "I must run over & see you some day. Why not you & Mʳˢ Darwin run over here, when you have finished your Book—you can study my little Apes & Apesses—Kindest regards to Mʳˢ Darwin & thanks for her note—Always yours Affecˡʸ / W D Fox",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1884, The Spectator, volume 57, Poetry. In the Beginning., page 1173",
          "text": "August, year unknown; time, Six o’clock in the morning; / Sate in a tree an Ape; irrational; eating an apple, / Raw; no cook as yet, no house, no shred of a garment; / Soul, a blank; taste, nil; a thumb but slowly beginning; / Warranted wholly an Ape, a great Jack-ape o’ the forest, / Jabbering, hairy, grim, arboreal wholly in habits. / So he sate on till Noon, when, hushed in slumber around him, / Everything lay dead; all save the murmuring insect, / Whose small voice still spake, proclaiming silence. Awaking / Suddenly then he rose, and thinking scorn of his fellows / Longed to be quit of them all, his Apess specially. She, dear, / Knew no dream, no vision; her Apelet playing about her / All her thought, her care! At Four, he finally left her, / Went to live by himself, but felt a pang—’twas a conscience / Budding, in germ! yet went; then stopped to bathe in a fountain; /[…] / B.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1923, Paul Rosenfeld, Musical Chronicle (1917–1923), page 81",
          "text": "The melodic line is bitter-sweet; the rhythms lift their heavy limbs in frenetic dance; the piled-up fourths pierce the ear with their cruel brilliance. The texture and timbre of the sounds are eastern; eastern not with the sugary orientalism of Rimsky and his fellowship, but with a pungence, a wildness, a subtlety which evokes the desert and the tropical swamp, the lushness and terribleness of the forests of the night, the spice and heat of the straits. The white-robed prophet and the hairy ape both speak. / And the work is more complex and developed a conception than any of Bloch’s earlier compositions, the quartet not expected. A grimacing irony and a light irresponsible gayety hitherto absent from his moods manifest themselves for the first time in the suite; the four movements, homogeneous although they are, show four distinct faces. The first, after the introductory page, with its corkscrew shrilling of fifes, its grave bitter brooding of the solo instrument, its many lamentful tones of blindly groping, bleeding life, is a sort of gigue triste. Something dances in relentless activity; something at once an insect swarm in May, and a tribe of little brown men at a phallic feast, and steel bobbins and shuttles. The second movement, the allegro ironico, is a variation on the well-known theme “Je m’en fous.” An ape-like mockery whinnies through it. Cocoanuts are shied at all the four corners of the world. Some of them display a mysterious tendency to fall near the spot where the apess sits weeping over the children.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1939, James Bridie, One Way of Living, page 196",
          "text": "In negroes and in anthropoid apes, the index finger is much shorter than the ring finger. In negresses and in anthropoid apesses, the index finger is often longer. Out of 600 Europeans of both sexes, 500 have longer ring fingers and 100 longer index fingers.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1986, Rikki Ducornet, Entering Fire, Chatto & Windus, page 142",
          "text": "I stalk you now in the comforting shadow of her idiotic hedges. The apess doesn’t look her age. I smell hanky-panky: perhaps P’pa has discovered the Fountain of Youth. She’s as limber as an eel, indefatigable: prunes and mows and rakes like a trooper, kindles fires, chattering all the while to the birds in the trees – a regular St Francis of Ape-isity! I’d crack her little skull if I could – self-satisfied seweress!",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "1998 April 20, Geoff Miller, “Re: The Tuneless Whistler -- a trial of patience!”, in alt.peeves (Usenet), message-ID <geoffmEroyF8.79L@netcom.com>",
          "text": "> In Nature, males of all persuasions make more noise than females, / > mostly. / Bull-fucking-shit. Well, maybe if you're talking about birds, but that's about it. The compulsive and voluminous chattering amongst the distaff set renders that one patently false in one swell foop, I daresay. At least among the Yoomuns. I dunno; do apesses screech more than male orangutans 'n' gorillae? If so, how much of it is gossip and how much is nagging?",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "2000, “The Life Cycle” (Part I), in Michèle Plott, Lauri Umansky, editors, Making Sense of Women’s Lives: An Introduction to Women’s Studies, Collegiate Press, Women Working: Germaine Greer, “Work”, page 201",
          "text": "Women are worker bees; males are drones. Lionesses do the hunting to feed their cubs and their father; apesses do all the child-rearing. Male animals are conspicuously less busy than females, yet somehow the human male has convinced the human female that he, not she, is the worker.",
          "type": "quotation"
        },
        {
          "ref": "2009, Stephen Perkinson, “Chapter Three: The Vocabulary of Likeness at the Late Fourteenth-Century French Court”, in The Likeness of the King: A Prehistory of Portraiture in Late Medieval France, University of Chicago Press, Conclusion: “Counterfeiting” Nature, ca. 1400, page 186",
          "text": "In 1406 or 1407, Christine de Pizan noted that ancient authors claimed that “art wishes to follow nature.” To clarify this point, Christine explains that art follows nature “when a worker properly contrefait a thing that nature has made.” As an example, she cites the case of a “painter who shall be so great a worker that he will depict the appearance of a man in so lively (si sur le vif) and so proper a fashion that everyone will recognize it, or a bird, or another beast,” and she notes that a sculptor would do likewise. She then remarks that some people refer to art as the “apess or ape of nature, because just as the apess greatly imitates the manners of humans, art greatly imitates the works of nature.”¹⁴⁵",
          "type": "quotation"
        }
      ],
      "glosses": [
        "A female ape."
      ],
      "links": [
        [
          "female",
          "female"
        ],
        [
          "ape",
          "ape"
        ]
      ],
      "tags": [
        "rare"
      ]
    }
  ],
  "translations": [
    {
      "code": "sv",
      "lang": "Swedish",
      "sense": "female ape",
      "tags": [
        "common-gender"
      ],
      "word": "apinja"
    }
  ],
  "word": "apess"
}