Definitions

from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 5th Edition.

  • adjective Rose-colored.
  • adjective Cheerful or bright; optimistic.

from The Century Dictionary.

  • Full of roses; consisting of roses; prepared from roses.
  • Of a rose color; blooming: as, roseate beauty.

from the GNU version of the Collaborative International Dictionary of English.

  • adjective Full of roses; rosy.
  • adjective resembling a rose in color or fragrance; esp., tinged with rose color; blooming.
  • adjective (Zoöl.) an American and European tern (Sterna Dougalli) whose breast is roseate in the breeding season.

from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License.

  • adjective Like the rose flower; pink; rosy.

from WordNet 3.0 Copyright 2006 by Princeton University. All rights reserved.

  • adjective of something having a dusty purplish pink color

Etymologies

from The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, 4th Edition

[From Latin roseus, rosy, from rosa, rose.]

from Wiktionary, Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike License

rose +‎ -ate (“like, similar to”).

Examples

Comments

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  • "But when her footman came into the room bringing, one after another, the innumerable lamps which (contained, mostly, in porcelain vases) burned singly or in pairs upon the different pieces of furniture as upon so many altars, rekindling in the twilight, already almost nocturnal, of this winter afternoon the glow of a sunset more lasting, more roseate, more human—filling, perhaps, with romantic wonder the thoughts of some solitary lover wandering in the street below and brought to a standstill before the mystery of the human presence which those lighted windows at once revealed and screened from sight—she had kept a sharp eye on the servant, to see that he set them down in their appointed places."

    -- Swann's Way by Marcel Proust, translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin, p 241 of the Vintage International paperback edition

    January 13, 2008

  • "But I responded to her complaints only with a languid smile; all the more indifferent to these predictions in that whatever happened in would be fine for me; already, I could see the morning sun shining on the slope of Fiesole, and I warmed myself smilingly in its rays; their strength obliged me to half-open and half-shut my eyelids, which, like alabaster lamps, were filled with a roseate glow."

    --The Guermantes Way by Marcel Proust, translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin, Revised by D.J. Enright, p 195 of the Modern Library paperback edition

    August 4, 2008

  • We all went to the Renaissance Fayre this weekend and Rose ate half a Swann, the greedy thing.

    August 4, 2008

  • *thought it was spelled "Faire"*

    August 4, 2008

  • "We have been told that some pretty girl is tender, loving, full of the most delicate feelings. Our imagination accepts this assurance, and when we behold for the first time, beneath the woven girdle of her golden hair, the rosy disc of her face, we are almost afraid that this too virtuous sister, cooling our ardour by her very virtue, can never be to us the lover for whom we have been longing. What secrets, however, we confide to her from the first moment, on the strength of that nobility of heart, what plans we make together! But a few days later, we regret that we were so confiding, for the rosy-cheeked girl, at our second meeting, addresses us in the language of a lascivious Fury. As for the successive facets which after pulsating for some days the roseate light, now eclipsed, presents to us, it is not even certain that a momentum external to these girls has not modified their aspect, and this might well have happened with my band of girls at Balbec."

    --The Captive & The Fugitive by Marcel Proust, translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin, revised by D.J. Enright, pp 77-78 of the Modern Library paperback edition

    December 29, 2009

  • "Mme Verdurin sat alone, the twin hemispheres of her pale, slightly roseate brow magnificently bulging, her hair drawn back, partly in imitation of an eighteenth-century portrait, partly from the need for coolness of a feverish person reluctant to reveal her condition, aloof, a deity presiding over the musical rites, goddess of Wagnerism and sick-headaches, a sort of almost tragic Norn, conjured up by the spell of genius in the midst of all these "bores," in whose presence she would scorn even more than usual to express her feelings upon hearing a piece of music which she knew better than they."

    --The Captive & The Fugitive by Marcel Proust, translated by C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Kilmartin, revised by D.J. Enright, p 331 of the Modern Library paperback edition

    January 20, 2010

  • I dried off with a white towel that might have been manufactured in heaven. The flesh can't help it. The flesh merely reports. When I'd finished I was tired and roseate and curiously pleased with the ongoing failure of myself. From "The Last Werewolf" by Glen Duncan.

    March 2, 2012