Crossword-Solution: JUMBLE
Dictionary
| Word | Word Type | Definition |
|---|---|---|
| Jumble | v. t. | To mix in a confused mass; to put or throw together without order; -- often followed by together or up. |
| Jumble | v. i. | To meet or unite in a confused way; to mix confusedly. |
| Jumble | n. | A confused mixture; a mass or collection without order; as, a jumble of words. |
| Jumble | n. | A small, thin, sugared cake, usually ring-shaped. |
We have 111 clues for the answer “JUMBLE”
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Kind of apple
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E
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A
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T
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E
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R
Hint 1 meaning
One who, or that which, eats.
Hint 2 anagram
AETER
Hint 3 another clue
greedy person
18 +1
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Sentences with JUMBLE (5)
Two fields away Bestwood began, with a jumble of roofs and red house-ends, out of which rose the church tower and the spire of the Congregational chapel.
What a pity I can’t repeat it verbatim! but how? There was nothing left but a jumble of confused sounds and broken words.” Tolstoy on his side is equally expansive, and in the early stages of the correspondence falls occasionally into the vein of self-analysis which in later days became habitual.
Orion: What see you now? Hugo: A rocky glen, A horrid jumble of fighting men, And a face that somewhere I've seen before.
Through this jumble of futile activities came and went a strange throng of hangers-on—manicures, beauty-doctors, hair-dressers, teachers of bridge, of French, of “physical development”: figures sometimes indistinguishable, by their appearance, or by Mrs.
There were so many songs you couldn't decide which was which to save you; it was just a pouring jumble of robins, larks, doves, blackbirds, sparrows, everything that came that early; the red and the yellow birds had not come yet, or the catbirds or thrushes.
Quotes with JUMBLE (3)
For the happy man prayer is only a jumble of words, until the day when sorrow comes to explain to him the sublime language by means of which he speaks to God.
Love, marriage, divorce, infidelity... life was the same here as anywhere else, wasn't? She realized now wrong she'd been; the pali wasn't a headstone and Kalaupapa wasn't a grave. It was a community like any other, bound by ties deeper than most, and people here went to their deaths as people did anywhere: with great reluctance, dragging the messy jumble of their lives behind them.
In the ordinary jumble of my literary drawer, I sometimes find texts I wrote ten, fifteen, or even more years ago. And many of them seem to me written by a stranger: I simply do not recognize myself in them. There was a person who wrote them, and it was I. I experienced them, but it was in another life, from which I just woke up, as if from someone else's dream.
Where this answer appears
Appears in: CrosSynergy, LAT, New Yorker, NYT, USA TODAY.
Used 9 times in crossword archives (1953–2023).