Beat meaning

Verb: beat

Pronunciation:(beet)

Beat meaning:

• Come out better in a competition, race, or conflict

Synonyms: beat out, crush, shell, trounce, vanquish

• Give a beating to; subject to a beating, either as a punishment or as an act of aggression

Synonyms: beat up, work over

• Hit repeatedly

• Move rhythmically

Synonyms: pound, thump

• Shape by beating

• Make a rhythmic sound

Synonyms: drum, thrum

• Glare or strike with great intensity

• Move with a thrashing motion

Synonyms: flap

• Sail with much tacking or with difficulty

• (cooking) stir vigorously

Synonyms: scramble

• Strike (a part of one’s own body) repeatedly, as in great emotion or in accompaniment to music

• Be superior

• Avoid paying

Synonyms: bunk

• Make a sound like a clock or a timer

Synonyms: tick, ticktock, tick tack

• Move with a flapping motion

Synonyms: flap

• Indicate by beating, as with the fingers or drumsticks

• Move with or as if with a regular alternating motion

Synonyms: pulsate, quiver

• Make by pounding or trampling

• (music) produce a rhythm by striking repeatedly

• Strike (water or bushes) repeatedly to rouse animals for hunting

• Beat through cleverness and wit

Synonyms: outwit, overreach, outsmart, outfox, circumvent, out think

• Be confusing or perplexing to; cause to be unable to think clearly

Synonyms: confuse, throw, fox, befuddle, fuddle, bedevil, confound, discombobulate, perplex, vex, stick, get, puzzle, mystify, baffle, pose, bewilder, flummox, stupefy, nonplus, gravel, dumbfound

• Wear out completely

Synonyms: exhaust, wash up, tucker, tucker out
Noun: beat

Pronunciation:(beet)

Beat meaning:

• A regular route for a sentry or policeman

Synonyms: round

• The rhythmic contraction and expansion of the arteries with each beat of the heart

Synonyms: pulse, pulsation, heartbeat

• The basic rhythmic unit in a piece of music

Synonyms: rhythm, musical rhythm

• A single pulsation of an oscillation produced by adding two waves of different frequencies; has a frequency equal to the difference between the two oscillations

• A member of the beat generation; a nonconformist in dress and behaviour

Synonyms: beatnik

• The sound of stroke or blow

• (prosody) the accent in a metrical foot of verse

Synonyms: meter, metre, measure, cadence

• A regular rate of repetition

• A stroke or blow

• The act of beating to windward; sailing as close as possible to the direction from which the wind is blowing

Adjective: beat

Pronunciation:(beet)

Beat meaning:

• Very tired

Synonyms: all in, bushed, dead
Quotations:

1. F. Scott Fitzgerald – So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
2. Coco Chanel – Don’t spend time beating on a wall, hoping to transform it into a door.
3. Edgar Allan Poe – Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door. Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door — Only this, and nothing more.”Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.Eagerly I wished the morrow; — vainly I had sought to borrow from my books surcease of sorrow — sorrow for the lost Lenore —For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore — Nameless here for evermore.And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating, Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door —Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; — This it is, and nothing more.”Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,That I scarce was sure I heard you”— here I opened wide the door; — Darkness there, and nothing more.Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!” — Merely this, and nothing more.Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice:Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore —Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; — ‘Tis the wind and nothing more.”Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore;Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door — Perched, and sat, and nothing more.Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore.Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure no craven,Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the Nightly shore —Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!” Quoth the Raven, “Nevermore.”Much I marveled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,Though its answer little meaning— little relevancy bore;For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being ever yet was blest with seeing bird above his chamber door —Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door, With such name as “Nevermore.
4. John Banville – The past beats inside me like a second heart.
5. Sarah J. Maas – My name is Celaena Sardothien. But it makes no difference if my name’s Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I’d still beat you, no matter what you call me.
6. Ayn Rand – A creative man is motivated by the desire to achieve, not by the desire to beat others.
7. Terry Pratchett – Real stupidity beats artificial intelligence every time.
8. Mark Twain – I haven’t any right to criticize books, and I don’t do it except when I hate them. I often want to criticize Jane Austen, but her books madden me so that I can’t conceal my frenzy from the reader; and therefore I have to stop every time I begin. Every time I read Pride and Prejudice I want to dig her up and beat her over the skull with her own shin-bone.
9. Raymond Carver – I could hear my heart beating. I could hear everyone’s heart. I could hear the human noise we sat there making, not one of us moving, not even when the room went dark.
10. Nalo Hopkinson – Beauty and ingenuity beat perfection hands down, every time.

Sample sentences:

1. Dare to be when a new day begins, dare to smile gratefully. When there is darkness, dare to be the first to shine a light.When there is injustice, dare to be the first to condemn it. When something seems difficult, dare to do it anyway.When life seems to beat you down, dare to fight back. When there seems to be no hope, dare to find some.When you’re feeling tired, dare to keep going.When times are tough, dare to be tougher.When love hurts you, dare to love again.When someone is hurting, dare to help them heal.When another is lost, dare to help them find the way.When a friend falls, dare to be the first to extend a hand.When you cross paths with another, dare to make them smile.When you feel great, dare to help someone else feel great too.When the day has ended, dare to feel as you’ve done your best.Dare to be the best you can –At all times, Dare to be!
2. Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon your head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
3. Sebastian just smiled. “I could hear your heart beating,” he said softly. “When you were watching me with Valentine. Did it bother you?”“That you seem to be dating my dad?” Jace shrugged. “You’re a little young for him, to be honest.”“What?” For the first time since Jace had met him, Sebastian seemed flabbergasted.
4. It’s hard to beat a person who never gives up.
5. You deserve someone who loves you with every single beat of his heart, someone who thinks about you constantly, someone who spends every minute of every day just wondering what you’re doing, where you are, who you’re with, and if you’re OK. You need someone who can help you reach your dreams and protect you from your fears. You need someone who will treat you with respect, love every part of you, especially your flaws. You should be with someone who could make you happy, really happy, dancing on air happy.
6. Wow.” I hadn’t thought Dimitri could be any cooler, but I was wrong. “You beat up your dad. I mean, that’s really horrible. What happened? But, wow. You really are a god.”He blinked. “What?””Uh, nothing.
7. As much as life can suck, it always beats the alternative.
8. You speak of sacrifice, but it is not my sacrifice I offer. It is yours I ask of you,” he went on. “I can offer you my life, but it is a short life; I can offer you my heart, though I have no idea how many more beats it shall sustain. But I love you enough to hope that you will not care that I am being selfish in trying to make the rest of my life – whatever length – happy, by spending it with you. I want to be married to you, Tessa. I want it more than I have ever wanted anything else in my life.” He looked up at her through the veil of silvery hair that fell over his eyes. “That is,” he said shyly, “if you love me, too.
9. So that’s little scorpious. Make sure you beat him in every test, Rosie. Thank god you’ve inherited your mother’s brains.
10. Hustlers of the world, there is one mark you cannot beat: the mark inside.
11. I want you to tell me about every person you’ve ever been in love with.Tell me why you loved them,then tell me why they loved you.Tell me about a day in your life you didn’t think you’d live through.Tell me what the word home means to you and tell me in a way that I’ll know your mother’s name just by the way you describe your bedroom when you were eight.See, I want to know the first time you felt the weight of hate,and if that day still trembles beneath your bones.Do you prefer to play in puddles of rain or bounce in the bellies of snow?And if you were to build a snowman,would you rip two branches from a tree to build your snowman arms or would leave your snowman arm less for the sake of being harmless to the tree?And if you would,would you notice how that tree weeps for you because your snowman has no arms to hug you every time you kiss him on the cheek?Do you kiss your friends on the cheek?Do you sleep beside them when they’re sad even if it makes your lover mad?Do you think that anger is a sincere emotion or just the timid motion of a fragile heart trying to beat away its pain?See, I wanna know what you think of your first name,and if you often lie awake at night and imagine your mother’s joy when she spoke it for the very first time.I want you to tell me all the ways you’ve been unkind.Tell me all the ways you’ve been cruel.Tell me, knowing I often picture Gandhi at ten years old beating up little boys at school.If you were walking by a chemical plant where smokestacks were filling the sky with dark black clouds would you holler “Poison! Poison! Poison!” really loud or would you whisper“That cloud looks like a fish,and that cloud looks like a fairy!”Do you believe that Mary was really a virgin?Do you believe that Moses really parted the sea?And if you don’t believe in miracles, tell me —how would you explain the miracle of my life to me?See, I wanna know if you believe in any god or if you believe in many gods or better yet what gods believe in you.And for all the times that you’ve knelt before the temple of yourself,have the prayers you asked come true?And if they didn’t, did you feel denied?And if you felt denied,denied by who?I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling good.I wanna know what you see when you look in the mirror on a day you’re feeling bad.I wanna know the first person who taught you your beauty could ever be reflected on a lousy piece of glass.If you ever reach enlightenment will you remember how to laugh?Have you ever been a song?Would you think less of me if I told you I’ve lived my entire life a little off-key?And I’m not nearly as smart as my poetry I just plagiarize the thoughts of the people around me who have learned the wisdom of silence.Do you believe that concrete perpetuates violence?And if you do —I want you to tell me of a meadow where my skateboard will soar. See, I wanna know more than what you do for a living.I wanna know how much of your life you spend just giving,and if you love yourself enough to also receive sometimes.I wanna know if you bleed sometimes from other people’s wounds,and if you dream sometimes that this life is just a balloon —that if you wanted to, you could pop,but you never would‘cause you’d never want it to stop.If a tree fell in the fore stand you were the only one there to hear —if its fall to the ground didn’t make a sound,would you panic in fear that you didn’t exist,or would you bask in the bliss of your nothingness?And lastly, let me ask you this:If you and I went for a walk and the entire walk, we didn’t talk —do you think eventually, we’d  kiss?No, wait.That’s asking too much —after all,this is only our first date.
12. I love you.” His voice was straightforward, affectionate. “You make me remember who I used to be. You make me want to be that man again. Right now, holding you, I feel like we have a shot at beating all odds and making it together. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.
13. Captain,” she murmured. “I think I’m in love with you.”An eyebrow shot up. She counted six beats of his heart before, suddenly, he laughed. “Don’t tell me it took you two whole days to realize that. I must be losing my touch.
14. The letter had been crumpled up and tossed onto the grate. It had burned all around the edges, so the names at the top and bottom had gone up in smoke. But there was enough of the bold black scrawl to reveal that it had indeed been a love letter. And as Hannah read the singed and half-destroyed parchment, she was forced to turn away to hide the trembling of her hand. —should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. However, it will be sincere, especially in light of the fact that you will never read it. I have felt these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a heart can go on beating under such a burden. I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don’t belong with a man like me. In the past I’ve done things you wouldn’t approve of, and I’ve done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I’m just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact. I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint, pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you. I want you under me. On your back. I’m sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can’t stop thinking of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your thighs wouldn’t be enough. I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you’ve ever said to me. If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you. You would say it’s too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could be so certain. But some things can’t be measured by time. Ask me an hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime. The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of every bell that will ever be cast. If only you—And there it stopped.
15. And he leans in, so carefully. Breathing and not breathing and hearts beating between us and he’s so close, he’s so close and I can’t feel my legs anymore. I can’t feel my fingers or the cold or the emptiness of this room because all I feel is him, everywhere,filling everything and he whispers“Please.”He says “Please don’t shoot me for this.”And he kisses me.His lips are softer than anything I’ve ever known, soft like a first snowfall, like biting into cotton candy, like melting and floating and being weightless in water. It’s sweet, it’s so effortlessly sweet.And then it changes.“Oh God—”He kisses me again, this time stronger,desperate, like he has to have me, like he’s dying to memorize the feel of my lips against his own. The taste of him is making me crazy; he’s all heat and desire and peppermint and I want more. I’ve just begun reeling him in, pulling him into me when he breaks away.He’s breathing like he’s lost his mind and he’s looking at me like something has broken inside of him, like he’s woken up to find that his nightmares were just that, that they never existed, that it was all just a bad dream that felt far too real but now he’s awake and he’s safe and everything is going to be okay and I’m falling. I’m falling apart and into his heart and I’m a disaster.
16. Hey, he’s awesome. A little unstable, but awesome. We got along great.” Adrian opened the door to the building we were seeking. “And he’s a bad ass in his way too. I mean, any other guy who wore scarves like that? He’d be laughed out of this school. Not Abe. He’d beat someone almost as badly as you would. In fact ” Adrian’s voice turned nervous. I gave him a surprised look.”In fact what?””Well, Abe said he liked me. But he also made it clear what he’d do to me if I ever hurt you or did anything bad.” Adrian grimaced. “In fact, he described what he’d do in very graphic detail. Then, just like that, he switched to some random, happy topic. I like the guy, but he’s scary.
17. I don’t care if I pass your test, I don’t care if I follow your rules. If you can cheat, so can I. I won’t let you beat me unfairly – I’ll beat you unfairly first.- Ender
18. Why aren’t you in school? I see you every day wandering around.””Oh, they don’t miss me,” she said. “I’m antisocial, they say. I don’t mix. It’s so strange. I’m very social indeed. It all depends on what you mean by social, doesn’t it? Social to me means talking to you about things like this.” She rattled some chestnuts that had fallen off the tree in the front yard. “Or talking about how strange the world is. Being with people is nice. But I don’t think it’s social to get a bunch of people together and then not let them talk, do you? An hour of TV class, an hour of basketball or baseball or running, another hour of transcription history or painting pictures, and more sports, but do you know, we never ask questions, or at least most don’t; they just run the answers at you, bing, bing, bing, and us sitting there for four more hours of film-teacher. That’s not social to me at all. It’s a lot of funnels and lot of water poured down the spout and out the bottom, and them telling us it’s wine when it’s not. They run us so ragged by the end of the day we can’t do anything but go to bed or head for a Fun Park to bully people around, break windowpanes in the Window Smasher place or wreck cars in the Car Wrecker place with the big steel ball. Or go out in the cars and race on the streets, trying to see how close you can get to lampposts, playing ‘chicken’ and ‘knock hubcaps.’ I guess I’m everything they say I am, all right. I haven’t any friends. That’s supposed to prove I’m abnormal. But everyone I know is either shouting or dancing around like wild or beating up one another. Do you notice how people hurt each other nowadays?
19. That was the funniest thing I’d heard in days.You’re kidding, right? Please tell me you have a stronger motive for me than ‘fair is fair.’ Life isn’t fair, Dean. Nothing is fair, ever. That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. I need to help you because fair is fair? Try, ‘I need you to help me so I won’t rip out your spine and beat you with it.’ I might respond to that. Maybe.
20. Through the blur, I wondered if I was alone or if other parents felt the same way I did – that everything involving our children was painful in some way. The emotions, whether they were joy, sorrow, love or pride, were so deep and sharp that in the end they left you raw, exposed and yes, in pain. The human heart was not designed to beat outside the human body and yet, each child represented just that – a parent’s heart bared, beating forever outside its chest.
21. The only one who can beat me is me.
22. Any stigma will do to beat a dogma.
23. How can you beat someone that’s already lost everything?
24. Skiffle was a name that was attached to what was, in essence, American folk music with a beat.
25. If the beat gets to the audience, and the message touches them, you’ve got a hit.
26. Sammy and I got together and it was like we hadn’t missed a beat.
27. Enjoy the beat of other drums, but this is my song.
28. But otherwise, music is about a beat and a message.
29. Don’t tell me to watch the beat. You watch me.
30. A jazz beat is a dynamic changing rhythm.