hearty or keen enjoyment, as in eating or drinking, or in action or speech in general: to dance with gusto.
Gusto comes from the Italian noun gusto “taste, flavor,” from Latin gustus “tasting, flavor, sense of taste.” Gustus is also the source of Spanish and Portuguese gosto and French goût, all meaning “taste, flavor, relish.” The main current sense of gusto, “keen enjoyment,” first appeared in 1629 but only started to become very common in the early 19th century.
She ate with gusto, sending particles of egg flying onto the table as she spoke.
Anna could hear her father singing with gusto.
a self-styled authority on language usage.
A true expert on language usage will know that using usageaster “a self-styled authority on language usage” is not meant kindly. For instance: “The reader was no more than a usageaster; he insisted on corrections that were merely a matter of style, not grammar.” Usageaster is composed of usage and the -aster, which is a “diminutive or pejorative suffix denoting something that imperfectly resembles or mimics the true thing.” This suffix, derived from Latin, can also be found in such words as poetaster “an inferior poet” and criticaster “incompetent critic.”
We can help such people overcome their insecurity by making a clear distinction between usageasters and usage experts.
… a usageaster pretends to know about questions of usage in language.
something a person does in addition to a principal occupation, especially for pleasure; hobby: Our doctor's avocation is painting.
Avocation derives from Latin āvocātiō, which literally means “a calling away” but has the sense of “distraction.” Āvocātiō is formed on the verb āvocāre “to call away; divert; distract; amuse,” composed of the prefix ā– “away from” and vocāre “to call,” source of English vocation. A person’s hobby or leisure pursuit is called an avocation, etymologically speaking, because it “calls away” that person from their main work—their vocation, or “calling.” Starting in the 1600s, however, avocation was used as a synonym for vocation, apparently on the thinking that a person’s side work can be or become as important as their regular occupation. Avocation entered English in the early 1500s.
So they signed up for a second shift, an avocation that earns them psychic income in the currencies of artistry, adventure and passion.
Her three avocations—gardening, current events, and photography—were, like her writing, deeply informed by a desire to secure fragile moments as objects of art.
verb (used with object)
to argue about; debate; discuss.
A controvert is not some kind of hybrid of an introvert and extrovert. It is actually a verb that means “to argue about; debate; discuss” and “argue against; deny; oppose.” Controvert does share a root, however, with introvert and extrovert: Latin vertere “to turn.” Controvert is based on Latin contrōversus “debatable, disputed”—that is, controversial, another derivative of contrōversus. Contrōversus is composed of a variant of contrā “against” and versus, past participle of vertere “to turn, turn around, spin.” (An introvert is literally someone “turned within” and an extrovert, someone “turned outside.”) Controvert entered English by the early 1600s.
It seemed as if his first instinct on hearing a proposition was to controvert it, so impatient was he of the limitations of our daily thought.
It seems natural to suppose—though many scholars controvert it—that Book I of the Republic was originally written as a separate book …
extravagantly enthusiastic; ecstatic.
Not everyone may get “extravagantly enthusiastic or ecstatic” about word origins, but they are key to understanding the development of the word rhapsodic. Rhapsodic is an adjective form of rhapsody, which historically refers to an epic poem, or part of such a poem, such as a book of Homer’s Iliad, that can be recited at one time. Rhapsody ultimately derives from Greek rhapsōidía “recital of epic poetry.” Such recitals tended to be done with intense expression and feeling, leading to the English sense of rhapsodic. In music, a rhapsody is “an instrumental composition irregular in form and suggestive of improvisation,” such as George Gershwin’s truly rhapsodic 1924 opus, Rhapsody in Blue. Rhapsodic entered English in the mid-1700s.
When I mentioned the Betty Crocker book to David Kamp … it didn’t seem to inspire the rhapsodic response I was hoping for.
… he can now tell you about the rhapsodic joy of a perfect day out at his home break with his boys as well as the spiritual fulfillment he felt from chasing waves around the planet as a surf bohemian inspired by Jack Kerouac.
of a town; urban.
Oppidan derives from Latin oppidānus “of a town,” from the noun oppidum “town.” Oppidānus didn’t just describe any town, though: it was used of towns other than Rome, which was referred to as urbs “city,” specifically the capital city of Rome. Due to this distinction from Rome, Latin oppidānus could have the pejorative connotation of “provincial, rustic.” The adjective form of urbs was urbānus “of the city,” source of English urban. Another city-based adjective English gets from Latin is municipal, from mūnicipium, a town whose residents had the rights of Roman citizens but which otherwise governed itself. Oppidan entered English by the mid-1500s.
A lot of people were confused when Kaplan … took a job at Condé Nast Traveler, a magazine not widely known as a bastion of oppidan irreverence.
Forsake your oppidan haunts and play manorial backgammon in the ballroom at Old Westbury Gardens, John S. Phipps’s former Long Island estate.
the making of profit out of sacred things.
Simony takes its name from the figure of Simon Magus in the New Testament of the Bible. Acts 8:9–24 presents the account of Simon, a Samaritan sorcerer who converted to Christianity. When Simon sees the apostles Peter and John bestowing the Holy Spirit by laying their hands on people, he offers them money in hopes that he, too, can possess spiritual or ecclesiastical gifts. This story is the source of Late Latin simōnia “buying or selling of spiritual or ecclesiastical gifts.” Entering Middle English around by early 1200s in the form of simonie, simony expanded to refer to the sin of buying or selling positions or privileges in the church and, more broadly, “the making of profit out of sacred things.”
His critique was that the Jellybys of the world sometimes commit the sin of simony, meaning that they trade in sacred and spiritual materials for their own emotional profit.
But isn’t what I’m doing the greatest crime of all? … Am I committing simony?