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always [always 词源字典]: always: [13] In Old English, the expression was alne weg, literally ‘all the way’. It seems likely that this was used originally in the physical sense of ‘covering the complete distance’, but by the time it starts to appear in texts (King Alfred’s is the first recorded use, in his translation of Boethius’s De consolatione philosophiae around 888) it already meant ‘perpetually’. Alway survived into modern English, albeit as an archaism, but began to be replaced as the main form by always in the 12th century.

The final -s is genitive, not plural, and was originally added to all as well as way: alles weis. It has a generalizing force, much as in modern English one might say of a morning for ‘every morning’.
=> way[always etymology, always origin, 英语词源]
anathema: anathema: [16] Originally in Greek anáthēma was a ‘votive offering’ (it was a derivative of the compound verb anatithénai ‘set up, dedicate’, formed from the prefix ana- ‘up’ and the verb tithénai ‘place’, source of English theme and related to English do). But from being broadly ‘anything offered up for religious purposes’, the word gradually developed negative associations of ‘something dedicated to evil’; and by the time it reached Latin it meant ‘curse’ or ‘accursed person’.
=> do, theme
anthem: anthem: [OE] Anthem is ultimately an alteration of antiphon ‘scriptural verse said or sung as a response’ (which was independently reborrowed into English from ecclesiastical Latin in the 15th century). It comes from Greek antíphōnos ‘responsive’, a compound formed from anti- ‘against’ and phōné ‘sound’ (source of English phonetic, telephone, etc).

By the time it had become established in Old English, antiphon had already developed to antefn, and gradually the /v/ sound of the f became assimilated to the following n, producing antemne and eventually antem. The spelling with th begins to appear in the 15th century, perhaps influenced by Old French anthaine; it gradually altered the pronunciation.

The meaning ‘antiphon’ died out in the 18th century, having been succeeded by ‘piece of choral church music’ and more generally ‘song of praise’. The specific application to a ‘national song’ began in the 19th century.
=> antiphon, phonetic, telephone
apart: apart: [14] English acquired apart from Old French apart, where it was based on the Latin phrase ā parte ‘at or to the side’ (Latin pars, part- is the source of English part). By the time it came into English it already contained the notion of separation.
=> part
apothecary: apothecary: [14] Originally, an apothecary was simply a shopkeeper – the word comes via Old French from late Latin apothēcārius, which was based on Greek apothékē ‘storehouse’ (source, via French, of boutique [18] and via Spanish of bodega [19]), a derivative of the verb apotithénai ‘put away’ (formed from the prefix apo- ‘away’ and the verb tithénai ‘put’ – source of thesis).

By the time the word entered English it was reserved to shopkeepers who sold non-perishable groceries, such as spices – and herbal and other remedies. Gradually, apothecaries began to specialize more and more in drugs, so that in 1617 a formal separation took place between the Apothecaries’ Company of London and the Grocers’ Company. Apothecary remained the general term for a ‘druggist’ until about 1800, when chemist began to take over.
=> bodega, boutique, thesis
arctic: arctic: [14] Etymologically, the Arctic is the region of the ‘bear’. Nothing to do with polar bears, though. The characteristic constellations of the northern hemisphere are the ‘Little Bear’ (Latin Ursa Minor), which contains the northern celestial pole, and the Plough, otherwise known as the ‘Great Bear’ (Latin Ursa Major). The perception that they resemble a bear (Greek arktos) goes back to ancient times, and the Greeks used the derived adjective arktikos, literally ‘relating to bears’, to denote ‘northern’.

By the time this reached English, via Latin ar(c)ticus and Old French artique, it was being applied specifically to the northern polar regions. (The original English spelling, reflecting the French form, was artic. The more etymologically ‘correct’ arctic came in in the 17th century, but uncertain spellers are still apt to regress to artic.) Antarctic [14] for the corresponding southern polar region likewise comes ultimately from Greek (antarktikos, with the prefix anti- ‘opposite’). Arcturus [14], the name of a very bright star in the constellation Boötes, means literally ‘bear watcher’ or ‘bear guardian’ (Greek Arktouros), a reference to the fact that the tail of the Great Bear points towards it.
asbestos: asbestos: [14] Originally, the word we now know as asbestos was applied in the Middle Ages to a mythical stone which, once set alight, could never be put out; it came from the Greek compound ásbestos, literally ‘inextinguishable’, which was formed from the prefix a- ‘not’ and sbestós, a derivative of the verb sbennúnai ‘extinguish’. However, by the time it first came into English, its form was not quite what it is today.

To begin with, it was the Greek accusative form, ásbeston, that was borrowed, and in its passage from Latin through Old French it developed several variants, including asbeston and albeston, most of which turned up in English. Then, in the early 17th century, the word was reborrowed from the original Greek source, ásbestos, and applied to a noncombustible silicate mineral.
augur: augur: [14] In Roman times, an augur was someone who foretold the future by observing the flight of birds (or by examining their entrails). His method of divination was reflected in his title, for the Latin word augur, earlier auger, seems to have meant literally ‘one who performs with birds’, from avis ‘bird’ (as in English aviary [16] and aviation [19]) and gerere ‘do, perform’ (as in English gestation, gesture, gerund, digest, and suggest). (A parallel formation is auspice [16], whose Latin antecedent auspex meant ‘one who observed the flight of birds’; it was compounded from avis and the verb specere ‘look’, which is related to English species and spy.) A Latin derivative was the verb inaugurāre ‘foretell the future from the flight of birds’, which was applied to the installation of someone of office after the appropriate omens had been determined; by the time it reached English as inaugurate [17], the association with divination had been left far behind.
=> aviary, aviation, inaugurate
bachelor: bachelor: [13] The ultimate origins of bachelor are obscure, but by the time it first turned up, in Old French bacheler (from a hypothetical Vulgar Latin *baccalāris), it meant ‘squire’ or ‘young knight in the service of an older knight’. This was the sense it had when borrowed into English, and it is preserved, in fossilized form, in knight bachelor. Subsequent semantic development was via ‘university graduate’ to, in the late 14th century, ‘unmarried man’.

A resemblance to Old Irish bachlach ‘shepherd, peasant’ (a derivative of Old Irish bachall ‘staff’, from Latin baculum, source of English bacillus and related to English bacteria) has led some to speculate that the two may be connected. English baccalaureate [17] comes via French baccalauréat or medieval Latin baccalaureātus from medieval Latin baccalaureus ‘bachelor’, which was an alteration of an earlier baccalārius, perhaps owing to an association with the ‘laurels’ awarded for academic success (Latin bacca lauri meant literally ‘laurel berry’).
bittern: bittern: [14] The Latin word for ‘bittern’ (a marsh bird) was būtiō, but by the time it reached Old French it had become butor. The discrepancy has been accounted for by proposing a Vulgar Latin intermediate *būtitaurus, literally ‘bittern-bull’ (Latin taurus is ‘bull’), coined on the basis of the bittern’s loud booming call, supposedly reminiscent of a bull’s. The original English forms, as borrowed from Old French, were botor and bitoure; the final -n first appeared in the 16th century, perhaps on the analogy of heron.
blind: blind: [OE] The connotations of the ultimate ancestor of blind, Indo-European *bhlendhos, seem to have been not so much ‘sightlessness’ as ‘confusion’ and ‘obscurity’. The notion of someone wandering around in actual or mental darkness, not knowing where to go, naturally progressed to the ‘inability to see’. Related words that fit this pattern are blunder, possibly from Old Norse blunda ‘shut one’s eyes’, blunt, and maybe also blend.

By the time the word entered Old English, as blind, it already meant ‘sightless’, but ancestral associations of darkness and obscurity were retained (Pepys in his diary, for instance, writes of a ‘little blind [that is, dark] bed-chamber’ 1666), and traces of them remain in such usages as ‘blind entrance’.
=> blend, blunder, blunt
breast: breast: [OE] Breast can be traced back via prehistoric Germanic *breustam to an Indo- European base *bhrus- or *bhreus-, whose other descendants, including Old Saxon brustian ‘bud’, Middle High German briustern ‘swell’, and Irish brú ‘abdomen, womb’, suggest that the underlying reference contained in the word may be to the growth and swelling of the female breasts. By the time it reached Old English, as brēost, it had already developed a more general, non-sex-specific sense ‘chest’, but the meaning element ‘mammary gland’ has remained throughout, and indeed over the past two hundred years ‘chest’ has grown steadily more archaic.
consist: consist: [16] Latin consistere meant originally ‘stand still, be firmly in place’. It was a compound verb formed from the intensive prefix com- and sistere ‘place’ (a relative of Latin stāre, which entered into a parallel compound to form constāre ‘stand firm’, source of English constant [14]). The concrete concept of ‘standing firm’ passed into the more abstract ‘exist’, and hence ‘have a particular kind of existence, have particular inherent qualities’. By the time English borrowed the verb it had come to mean ‘be composed of’.
=> constant, constitute
cousin: cousin: [13] The word cousin is etymologically related to sister. It comes via Old French cosin from Latin consobrīnus, which meant literally ‘child of one’s mother’s sister’ – that is, ‘cousin on one’s mother’s side’ (consobrīnus was a compound noun formed from the prefix com- ‘together’ and sobrīnus ‘maternal cousin’, a derivative of soror ‘sister’ and relative of English sister).

By the time it entered English, it had already broadened out in meaning to cover paternal as well as maternal cousins, and indeed in the Middle Ages it was applied more generally still to any relative other than one’s parents or brother and sister (probably through association with Latin consanguineus ‘blood relative’).
=> sister
daub: daub: [14] The ultimate source of daub, Latin dēalbāre, meant literally ‘whiten’. It was derived from the adjective albus ‘white’, ancestor of English albino and album. It developed the specific meaning ‘cover with some white substance, such as whitewash or plaster’, and by the time it reached English, via Old French dauber, it referred to the applying of a coating of mortar, plaster, etc to a wall. This was generally a messy process (particularly in the smearing of a mixture of mud and dung on to a framework of laths to produce wattle-and-daub walls), and led in due course to the broader sense ‘apply crudely’.
=> albino, album, auburn
desk: desk: [14] Desk, disc, dish, and dais – strange bedfellows semantically – form a little gang of words going back ultimately, via Latin discus, to Greek dískos ‘quoit’. Desk seems perhaps the least likely descendant of ‘quoit’, but it came about like this: Latin discus was used metaphorically, on the basis of its circular shape, for a ‘tray’ or ‘platter, dish’; and when such a tray was set on legs, it became a table. (German tisch ‘table’ comes directly from Vulgar Latin in this sense.) By the time English acquired it from medieval Latin it seems already to have developed the specialized meaning ‘table for writing or reading on’.
=> dais, disc, dish
domino: domino: [18] The word domino was borrowed from French, where it originally signified (in the 16th century) a sort of hooded cloak worn by priests. It presumably represents a form of Latin dominus ‘lord, master’, but the reason for the application has never been satisfactorily explained (one suggestion is that it comes from the ritual formula benedicamus Domino ‘let us bless the Lord’).

By the time English acquired it, it had come to mean ‘hooded cloak with a halfmask, worn at masquerades’, and by the 19th century it was being used for the mask itself. It is far from clear whether the application to the game played with small rectangular blocks, which dates in English from the 19th century, represents a new use of the same word or a return to the original Latin, but either way the reason behind the usage is not known.

A possibility that has been advanced is that the winner of the game originally shouted domino! ‘lord!’.
doom: doom: [OE] Doom derives ultimately from *dō-, the Germanic base from which the verb do comes. This originally meant ‘put, place’, and so Germanic *dōmaz signified literally ‘that which is put’. By the time it reached Old English as dōm a more concrete sense ‘law, decree, judgment’ had developed (this lies behind the compound doomsday ‘day of judgment’ [OE], whose early Middle English spelling has been preserved in Domesday book). The modern sense ‘(evil) fate’ first appeared in the 14th century.
=> deem, do
epithet: epithet: [16] Etymologically, an epithet is a word that is ‘put on’ to or ‘added’ to another. The term comes from Greek epítheton, which meant literally ‘addition’, but was used by Greek grammarians for ‘adjective’. It was a derivative of epitithénai ‘put on, add’, a compound verb formed from the prefix epí- ‘on’ and tithénai ‘place, put’ (a relative of English do and theme). By the time the word reached English (via French or Latin) it had moved over from the vocabulary of the grammarian to that of the layman, in the sense ‘descriptive appellation’.
=> do, theme
from: from: [OE] From goes back ultimately to Indo- European *pr, which also produced English first, for, fore, foremost, former, and before. The addition of a suffix -m gave a word denoting ‘forward movement, advancement’ (as in Greek prómos ‘foremost’). By the time it reached Old English as from or fram the notion of ‘moving forward or onward’ had passed into ‘moving away’. The related fro [12], now little used except in to and fro, comes from Old Norse frá.
=> before, first, for, fore, former, forth, fro, primary
gain: gain: [15] Gain is Germanic in origin, although English acquired it via Old French. Its distant ancestor is the Germanic noun *waithā. The etymological meaning of this was ‘hunting ground’ (it came ultimately from a prehistoric Indo-European base *wei-, which also produced Lithuanian vyti ‘pursue, hunt’ and Sanskrit veti, vayati ‘seeks, follows’), but gradually this extended via ‘place where food or fodder is sought’ to ‘grazing place’ (its modern German and Dutch descendant weide means ‘pasture’).

From it was formed a verb *waithanjan ‘hunt’ and ‘graze, pasture’, which Vulgar Latin took over as *gwadanjāre. This preserved the semantic dichotomy that had grown up in Germanic: the agricultural sense developed to ‘cultivate land’, and it appears that the ‘hunting’ sense gave rise metaphorically to ‘win, earn’. Both passed into Old French gaaigner, but evidently by the time English acquired the word, the former meaning had all but died out (although it is interesting to note that it was introduced into English as a pseudo-archaism in the 17th and 18th centuries: ‘Of old to gain land was as much as to till and manure it’, Termes de la ley 1708).
graft: graft: [15] Graft, in its original sense ‘plant part inserted into a living plant’ (the application to skin and other animal tissue is a late 19thcentury development), came from its resemblance in shape to a pencil. Greek graphíon meant ‘writing implement, stylus’ (it was a derivative of the verb gráphein ‘write’, source of English graphic). It passed via Latin graphium into Old French as grafe, gradually changing in its precise application with the advance of writing technology.

By the time it reached Old French it denoted a ‘pencil’, and it was then that the resemblance to two artificially united plant stems was noted and the metaphor born. English took the word over as graff in the late 14th century (it actually survived in that form into the 19th century), and within a hundred years had added a -t to the end to give modern English graft. Graft ‘corruption’, first recorded in mid 19th-century America, may be the same word, perhaps derived from the notion of a graft as an ‘insertion’, hence ‘something extra, on the side’. Graft ‘hard work’ [19], on the other hand, is probably a different word, perhaps based on the English dialect verb graft ‘dig’, an alteration of grave ‘dig’.
=> graphic
harsh: harsh: [16] Harsh originally meant ‘hairy’. Its ancestor, Middle Low German harsch, was a derivative of the noun haer ‘hair’, and its exact English equivalent would have been hairish. By the time English acquired it, it had broadened out in meaning to ‘rough’, both literally and figuratively.
haversack: haversack: [18] Etymologically, a haversack is a ‘bag for oats’. The word comes via French havresac from German habersack, a compound formed from the now dialectal haber ‘oats’ and sack ‘bag’. This denoted originally a bag used in the army for feeding oats to horses, but by the time it reached English it had broadened out to a ‘bag for soldiers’ provisions’, carried over the shoulders (northern dialects of English, incidentally, had the term haver for ‘oats’, probably borrowed from Old Norse hafri, and related forms are still widespread among the Germanic languages, including German hafer, Dutch haver, and Swedish and Danish havre.

It has been speculated that the word is related to Latin caper and Old Norse hafr ‘goat’, in which case it would mean etymologically ‘goat’s food’).
hyacinth: hyacinth: [16] Greek huákinthos denoted a plant with deep red flowers which according to legend sprang from the blood of Hyacinthus, a beautiful youth whom Apollo loved but accidentally killed. It probably came from some pre-Hellenic Mediterranean language, and was remodelled in Greek on the basis of Hyacinthus’s name. It is not clear what sort of plant the original hyacinth was, but by the time the word reached English (via Latin hyacinthus and French hyacinthe) it had been adopted for the bluebell and its immediate relatives.

Greek huákinthos was also used for a variety of precious stone, probably originally the sapphire. This meaning too followed the word into English, but is now little used, having been taken over by jacinth [13] – itself a descendant of Latin hyacinthus.
=> jacinth
ink: ink: [13] The Greeks had a method of painting which involved applying coloured wax to a surface and then fixing it with heat. The verb describing this process was egkaíein ‘burn in’, a compound of en- ‘in’ and kaíein ‘burn’, whose derivative egkaustikós is the ancestor of the term used for the technique in English – encaustic [17]. Another derivative, égkauston, was applied to the purple ink used by emperors in ancient times for signing documents.

As it passed via late Latin encaustum or encautum into Old French enque it gradually lost its imperial associations, and by the time it reached English as enke it was being used for any dark writing fluid.
=> caustic
iron: iron: [OE] Iron is probably a Celtic contribution to English, but the borrowing took place in the prehistoric period, before the Germanic dialects separated, and so English shares the word with German (eisen), Dutch (ijzen), Swedish (järn), etc. The prehistoric Celtic form from which these all ultimately came was *īsarnon, which some have linked with Latin aes ‘bronze’ and Sanskrit isira- ‘strong’. The ancient Indo- European peoples had already split up into groups speaking mutually unintelligible tongues by the time iron came into general use, so there was never any common Indo-European term for it.
laundry: laundry: [16] Although it is better disguised than most of its relatives, laundry is one of a large family of English words derived from Latin lavāre ‘wash’ (see LAVATORY). It is a contraction of an earlier lavendry, which came via Old French lavanderie from Latin lavandārium ‘things to be washed’. By the time it reached English it had also acquired the meaning ‘place where things are washed’.
=> lavatory
let: let: [OE] English has two distinct verbs let, of diametrically opposite meaning, but they are probably ultimately related. The one meaning ‘allow’ goes back to a prehistoric Germanic *lǣt- (source also of German lassen and Dutch laten) which, like the related late, is connected with a range of words denoting ‘slowness’ or ‘weariness’. It therefore appears that the underlying etymological meaning of let is ‘let go of something because one is too tired to hold on to it’.

By the time the verb reached Old English this had developed to ‘leave behind’ and ‘omit to do’, senses now defunct, as well as to ‘allow’. A close relative of the base *lǣt- was *lat-, direct ancestor of English late. From this was formed the Germanic verb *latjan, which gave English its other verb let, meaning ‘prevent’, now largely obsolete except as a noun, in the phrase without let or hindrance or as a tennis term.
=> late
marshal: marshal: [13] Etymologically, a marshal is a ‘horse-servant’. The word goes back to a prehistoric Germanic *markhaskalkaz ‘groom’, a compound based on *markhaz ‘horse’ (source of English mare [OE]) and *skalkaz ‘servant’. This was borrowed into late Latin as mariscalcus, and passed from there via Old French mareschal into English. In the course of its journey its status gradually rose, and by the time it reached English it denoted a ‘high officer of state’.
=> mare
meat: meat: [OE] Etymologically, meat is a ‘portion of food measured out’. The word’s ultimate source is Indo-European *mat-, *met- ‘measure’, which also lies behind English measure. This produced a prehistoric Germanic *matiz, which by the time it passed into Old English as mete had broadened out in meaning from ‘portion of food’ to simply ‘food’.

That is still the meaning of its Germanic relatives, Swedish mat and Danish mad, and it survives for English meat in certain fixed contexts, such as meat and drink and What’s one man’s meat is another man’s poison, but for the most part the more specific ‘flesh used as food’, which began to emerge in the 14th century, now dominates.
=> measure
merry: merry: [OE] Merry goes back to a prehistoric Germanic *murgjaz, which appears to have been derived from a base meaning ‘short’. By the time it reached Old English, as myrige, it meant ‘pleasant’ – a semantic leap perhaps inspired by the notion of ‘shortening’ time by passing it pleasantly. The modern meaning ‘jolly’ did not emerge until the 14th century. A derivative of *murgjaz was the noun *murgithō, source of English mirth [OE]; Dutch has the related merchte ‘mirth’.
=> mirth
metal: metal: [13] Greek métallon, a word of unknown origin, had a range of meanings, including ‘mine’ (the original sense) and ‘mineral’ as well as ‘metal’. These were carried over into Latin metallum, but by the time the word reached English, via Old French metal, ‘metal’ was all that was left. Mettle [16] is a variant spelling of metal, used to distinguish its metaphorical senses.

Closely related is medal [16], which etymologically means ‘something made of metal’. It comes via French médaille and Italian medaglia from a general Romance form *medallia. This was an alteration of Vulgar Latin *metallea, a derivative of Latin metallum. Medallion [17] goes back via French to Italian medaglione ‘large medal’.
=> medal, medallion
near: near: [12] Historically, near is a comparative form, and its ancestor originally meant ‘nearer’. It was borrowed from Old Norse náer, the comparative of ná- ‘near’, which came from the same prehistoric Germanic source as produced English nigh [OE] and next (not to mention German nah ‘near’). By the time it reached English it had lost its comparative force, and simply meant ‘close’ (which is also the sense of its modern Scandinavian descendants, Swedish nära and Danish nær).
=> neighbour, next, nigh
ox: ox: [OE] Ox is an ancient word, traceable back to a prehistoric Indo-European *uksín-. This also produced Welsh ych ‘bull’, Irish oss ‘stag’, and Sanskrit ukshán ‘bull’, and it has been speculated that there may be some connection with Sanskrit uks- ‘emit semen’ and Greek hugrós ‘moist’, as if *uksín- denoted etymologically ‘male animal’.

If this was so, the ‘seed-bearing’ function had clearly been lost sight of by the time it had evolved to Germanic *okhson, which was reserved for a ‘castrated bull’. Ox’s modern Germanic relatives are German ochse (taken over by English in the compound aurochs ‘extinct wild ox’ [18], which etymologically means ‘original or primeval ox’), Dutch os, Swedish oxe, and Danish okse.
=> aurochs
pigeon: pigeon: [14] Pigeon comes ultimately from late Latin pīpiō. This meant originally simply ‘young bird’, and was formed from the onomatopoeic base *pīp- (source also of English pipe), which imitated the chirps of young birds. It gradually specialized in use to ‘young pigeon, squab’, and both the general and the specific senses passed via Vulgar Latin *pībiō into Old French as pijon. By the time it arrived in English, however, only the ‘young pigeon’ sense survived, and this was soon overtaken by ‘pigeon’ in general.
=> pipe
pipe: pipe: [OE] The etymological notion underlying pipe is of a ‘piping’ sound. The word goes back to a Common Romance *pīpa, a derivative of the Latin verb pīpāre ‘chirp’. This was formed from the base *pīp-, imitative of the sounds made by young birds, which also lies behind English pigeon. Prehistoric Germanic took over *pīpa, and it has since evolved to German pfeife, Dutch pijp, Swedish pipa, and English pipe. By the time it reached English it had broadened out semantically from its original ‘tubular wind instrument which makes a piping sound’ to ‘tube’ in general.
=> pigeon
procrastinate: procrastinate: [16] Crās was Latin for ‘tomorrow’ (its antecedents are uncertain). The adjective derived from it was crāstinus ‘of tomorrow’, which in turn formed the basis of a verb prōcrāstināre ‘put forward to tomorrow’ (prō- denotes ‘forward’). By the time it reached English it had broadened out to simply ‘delay’.
putty: putty: [17] Etymologically, putty is something that comes from a pot. It was borrowed from French potée ‘contents of a pot’, a derivative of pot ‘pot’. By the time English acquired it, it had come to be applied to a powder made from heated tin, used by jewellers for polishing, and for a cement made from lime and water, used as a top coating on plaster – both substances made in pots. The latter led on in English in the 18th century to the now familiar application to the window-pane sealant.
=> pot
raisin: raisin: [13] Raisin comes ultimately from a Latin word that meant ‘bunch of grapes’. This was racēmus (source also of English raceme [18]). It passed via Vulgar Latin *racīmus into Old French as raisin, by which time it had come to mean just ‘grape’ rather ‘bunch of grapes’. And it was already developing further to ‘dried grape’ by the time English acquired it.
=> raceme
rapid: rapid: [17] Like rape and rapture, rapid comes ultimately from Latin rapere ‘seize by force’. From this was derived the adjective rapidus, which originally denoted ‘carrying off by force’. The notion of ‘swiftness’ soon became incorporated into the meaning, however, and although the Latin adjective retained its original connotations of violence (it suggested ‘impetuous speed’ or ‘haste’), by the time it reached English it had simply become synonymous with ‘quick’.
=> rapture
reproach: reproach: [15] The -proach of reproach is the same as that of approach. Both go back ultimately to Latin prope ‘near’. From this was formed the Vulgar Latin verb *repropiāre ‘bring back near’, which, by the time it reached Old French as reprochier, had evolved metaphorically towards the notion of ‘bringing somebody face to face with something for which they should be blamed’.
=> approach
sad: sad: [OE] Originally, to feel sad was to feel that one had had ‘enough’. For the word comes ultimately from the same Indo-European base that produced English satisfy and saturate. By the time it reached English (via a prehistoric Germanic *sathaz) ‘enough’ had already become extended to ‘weary’, and the modern sense ‘unhappy’ emerged in the 14th century.

The original notion of ‘sufficiency’ has now died out in the case of sad, but it survives in the case of sated [17], an alteration (probably under the influence of satiate) of the past participle of an earlier verb sade ‘satiate’, which was derived from sad.
=> sated, satiate, satisfy, saturate
schedule: schedule: [14] Late Latin scedula meant ‘small piece of paper’. It was a diminutive form of Latin sceda ‘papyrus leaf, piece of paper, page’, itself a borrowing from Greek skhedē. By the time it reached English via Old French cedule it had moved on semantically to ‘small piece of paper with writing on it, used as a ticket or label’; and this subsequently developed through ‘supplementary sheet giving a summary, list of additional points, etc’ to any ‘list giving details of what has been arranged’.

Until around 1800 the word was pronounced /sed-/; but then in Britain, apparently under French influence, it changed to /shed-/, while Americans reverted to the original Greek with /sked-/.
search: search: [14] Etymologically, search denotes ‘going round in a circle’ – for its ultimate source is Latin circus ‘circle’ (source of English circle and circus). From this was derived the verb circāre ‘go round’, which by the time it had reached Old French as cerchier had acquired connotations of ‘examining’ or ‘exploring’. English took it over via Anglo-Norman sercher. (It is no relation, incidentally, to English seek.)
=> circle, circus
season: season: [13] A season is etymologically a time of ‘sowing seeds’. The word comes via Old French seson from Latin satiō ‘act of sowing’, a derivative of satus, the past participle of serere ‘sow, plant’ (which went back to the same Indo- European base that produced English seed, semen, and sow). In post-classical times ‘act of sowing’ evolved into ‘time for sowing’, and by the time it reached Old French it had developed further to any ‘suitable time’.

The application to ‘any of the four main divisions of the year’ emerged in English in the 14th century. The use of season as a verb, meaning ‘add flavourings to’, had its beginnings in post-classical Latin, and arose as the result of a progression from ‘sow’ through ‘ripen’ to ‘cook thoroughly or well’.
=> seed, semen, sow
sermon: sermon: [12] Latin sermō meant simply ‘talk, conversation, discourse’, but by the time it reached English via Anglo-Norman sermun it had narrowed down to an ‘address given from a pulpit on a religious topic’. It is not clear what its ultimate ancestry is, but probably the favourite candidate as its source is the Indo-European base *swer-, *swar-, which gave English answer and swear.
size: size: [13] The etymological notion underlying size is of ‘settling’ something, of fixing an amount. The word is a curtailed version of assize, which went back ultimately to Latin assidēre, literally ‘sit beside someone’. By the time it reached English, via Old French, it had acquired connotations of ‘sitting down to make a judgment on something’, such as a law case (hence the meaning of English assize).

Other matters decided on in this way included the standardization of amounts (of taxes, for example, or food), and this led to the word size being used for ‘dimension’. Size ‘gum’ [15] may be the same word, but the nature of the relationship between the two is unclear.
=> assize, sit
solicit: solicit: [15] The ultimate source of solicit is Latin sollicitus ‘agitated’, which also gave English solicitous [16]. It was a compound adjective, formed from sollus ‘whole’ (source also of English solemn) and citus, the past participle of ciēre ‘move’ (source of English cite, excite, etc) – hence literally ‘completely moved’.

From it was formed the verb sollicitāre ‘disturb, agitate’, which passed into English via Old French solliciter. By the time it arrived it had acquired the additional meaning ‘manage affairs’, which lies behind the derived solicitor [15]; and the original ‘disturb’ (which has since died out) gave rise in the 16th century to ‘trouble with requests’. French insouciant, borrowed by English in the 19th century, goes back ultimately to Latin sollicitāre.
=> cite, excite, incite, insouciant, solemn, solid
soot: soot: [OE] Soot is etymologically that which ‘sits’ on something – that is, a film which settles on a surface. The word comes from a prehistoric Germanic *sōtam, which was descended from the Indo-European base *sōd-, *sed- ‘sit’ (source also of English settle, sit, etc). By the time it reached English it had become specialized in meaning to the ‘fine black particles produced by burning’.
=> settle, sit