mote

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mote 1

 (mōt)
n.
A very small particle; a speck: "Dust motes hung in a slant of sunlight" (Anne Tyler).

[Middle English mot, from Old English.]

mote 2

 (mōt)
aux.v. Archaic
May; might.

[Middle English moten, from Old English mōtan; see med- in Indo-European roots.]

mote

(məʊt)
n
a tiny speck
[Old English mot; compare Middle Dutch mot grit, Norwegian mutt speck]

mote

(məʊt)
vb, past moste (məʊst)
(takes an infinitive without to) archaic may or might
[Old English mōt, first person singular present tense of mōtan to be allowed]

mote1

(moʊt)

n.
a small particle or speck, esp. of dust.
[before 1000; Middle English, Old English mot speck; akin to Frisian, Dutch mot grit, sawdust]

mote2

(moʊt)

v. pt. moste (mōst). Archaic.
may or might.
[before 900; Middle English mot(e), Old English mōt. See must1]
ThesaurusAntonymsRelated WordsSynonymsLegend:
Noun1.mote - (nontechnical usage) a tiny piece of anythingmote - (nontechnical usage) a tiny piece of anything
grain - a relatively small granular particle of a substance; "a grain of sand"; "a grain of sugar"
grinding - material resulting from the process of grinding; "vegetable grindings clogged the drain"
material, stuff - the tangible substance that goes into the makeup of a physical object; "coal is a hard black material"; "wheat is the stuff they use to make bread"
chylomicron - a microscopic particle of triglycerides produced in the intestines during digestion; in the bloodstream they release their fatty acids into the blood
flyspeck - a tiny dark speck made by the excrement of a fly
identification particle - a tiny particle of material that can be added to a product to indicate the source of manufacture

mote

noun speck, spot, grain, particle, fragment, atom, mite Dust motes swirled in the sunlight.
Translations

mote

[məʊt] Nátomo m, mota f
to see the mote in our neighbour's eye and not the beam in our ownver la paja en el ojo ajeno y no la viga en el propio

mote

n (old)Staubkorn nt, → Stäubchen nt; to see the mote in one’s neighbour’s eye (and not the beam in one’s own)den Splitter im Auge des anderen (und nicht den Balken im eigenen Auge) sehen
References in classic literature ?
She realized that she herself was no more than a mote caught up in this tangled, nonunderstandable conflict of many motes.
They'll bleat and baa, dona like goats, Gorge down black sheep, and strain at motes, Array their backs in fine black coats, Then seize their negroes by their throats, And choke, for heavenly union.
He was aware of motes and specks of suspicion in the atmosphere of that time; seen through which medium, Christopher Casby was a mere Inn signpost, without any Inn--an invitation to rest and be thankful, when there was no place to put up at, and nothing whatever to be thankful for.
Go on, boy, and don't mind; for so long as I fill my pouch, no matter if I show as many inaccuracies as there are motes in a sunbeam.
She sat in a blaze of oppressive heat, in a cloud of moving dust, and her eyes could only wander from the walls, marked by her father's head, to the table cut and notched by her brothers, where stood the tea-board never thoroughly cleaned, the cups and saucers wiped in streaks, the milk a mixture of motes floating in thin blue, and the bread and butter growing every minute more greasy than even Rebecca's hands had first produced it.
In the beginning of dinner, the party being small and the room still, these motes from the mass of a magistrate's mind fell too noticeably.
It crushed them into the remotest recesses of their own minds, pressing out of them, like juices from the grape, all the false ardours and exaltations and undue self-values of the human soul, until they perceived themselves finite and small, specks and motes, moving with weak cunning and little wisdom amidst the play and inter-play of the great blind elements and forces.
And romantic it certainly was--the fog, like the grey shadow of infinite mystery, brooding over the whirling speck of earth; and men, mere motes of light and sparkle, cursed with an insane relish for work, riding their steeds of wood and steel through the heart of the mystery, groping their way blindly through the Unseen, and clamouring and clanging in confident speech the while their hearts are heavy with incertitude and fear.
Dolly Varden's pretty little head was yet bewildered by various recollections of the party, and her bright eyes were yet dazzled by a crowd of images, dancing before them like motes in the sunbeams, among which the effigy of one partner in particular did especially figure, the same being a young coachmaker (a master in his own right) who had given her to understand, when he handed her into the chair at parting, that it was his fixed resolve to neglect his business from that time, and die slowly for the love of her-- Dolly's head, and eyes, and thoughts, and seven senses, were all in a state of flutter and confusion for which the party was accountable, although it was now three days old, when, as she was sitting listlessly at breakfast, reading all manner of fortunes
Father, I firmly do believe - I know - for Death, who comes for me From regions of the blest afar, Where there is nothing to deceive, Hath left his iron gate ajar, And rays of truth you cannot see Are flashing thro' Eternity -- I do believe that Eblis hath A snare in ev'ry human path - Else how, when in the holy grove I wandered of the idol, Love, Who daily scents his snowy wings With incense of burnt offerings From the most unpolluted things, Whose pleasant bowers are yet so riven Above with trelliced rays from Heaven No mote may shun - no tiniest fly The light'ning of his eagle eye - How was it that Ambition crept, Unseen, amid the revels there, Till growing bold, he laughed and leapt In the tangles of Love's very hair?
Perched on the rim of Michael's pannikin, this inconsiderable adventurer from out of the dark into the sun of life, a mere spark and mote between the darks, by a ruffing of his salmon-pink crest, a swift and enormous dilation of his bead-black pupils, and a raucous imperative cry, as of all the gods, in his throat, could make Michael give back and permit the fastidious selection of the choicest tidbits of his dish.
He was a beautiful boy, a lithe young god in breathing bronze, eyes wide apart, intelligent and daring, a bubble, a mote, a beautiful flash and sparkle of life.