16 Little Words and Phrases for Describing Small Amounts


Language ain’t math. When we’re looking to describe an amount that’s teensy-weensy, the words aren’t precise, but they are folksy and charming. Some are regional. Many of these 16 examples referred to a specific small thing or person before broadening their definitions through popular use, but they’re all helpful when dealing with anything itty-bitty.

1. scintilla

Back in the 1600s, this scintillating word referred to a spark—a tiny bit of fire. Soon it was being used to describe little things that aren’t fire hazards, as seen in Oxford English Dictionary examples of a “scintilla of misunderstanding” (1674) and “a scintilla of vvidence” (1734). What a beautiful-sounding word. It sounds so much classier than “almost diddly-squat.”

2. dripple

The Dictionary of American Regional English (DARE) records this Pennsylvania variation of drip—another smallish word. I reckon dripples are equivalent to drips and drabs.

3. whit

The origin of this word isn’t certain. It might be an alteration of white, originally meaning "a little white spot." It could be a variation of wight, which has referred to many creatures, including small ones. But whatever the origin, since the mid 1400s people have been talking about whits, usually using them in a negative sense, as in “I don’t care a whit for peas.” For some reason, few people want to brag about their whit collection.

4. tad

Before a tad was a small amount, it was a small kid, especially a boy. A 1928 use by Sinclair Lewis would sound odd today: “One of the bell-boys at the hotel, cute little tad, knew the town like a book.”

5. enough to swear by

This not-so-concise phrase turns up in some 1884 nautical fiction by William Lancaster: “The two ships touched with a shock which was barely perceptible, just enough in fact to ‘swear by,’ as the gunner remarked.” Enough to swear by is, to use two similar terms, a pennyworth or pin’s worth.

6. fractionlet

A fraction is small. A fractionlet is really small. The diminutive suffix –let is a proven way of making up words for tiny things. Another example is scraplet, which is likely the kind of scrap that would satisfy few dogs, teacup mini-poodles excepted.

7. smitch

This word might be related to smit, which the OED spots as a rarely used word for a little bit in the 1300s and 1400s. Smitch isn’t common, but it’s not dead either, as a recent Variety article pulled it off the lexical shelf, mentioning “a curvilinear contemporary high above Beverly Hills up for grabs at just a smitch under $15 million.”

8. and 9. smidge and smidgeon

It seems pretty likely that smitch begat smidge and smidgeon/smidgen/smidgin, which sound very similar and have achieved greater success. The spelling in the OED’s first example, from 1845, makes the connection pretty clear: “They wouldn't have left a smitchin o' honey.”

10. tittle

This word, which appropriately rhymes with little, started as a tiny mark made while writing, such as an accent mark or the dot over a lowercase i. From there it came to mean any little written mark, then any little anything. There’s also the expression "to a tittle," which means "to the letter."

11. jot

This common word has the same original meaning as tittle, and the two words were often found together in the expression "jot or tittle." This 1657 line by George Thornley promises to be honest down to the nanometer: “I swear I will not lie a jott.”

12. toosh

DARE has a few examples of this term in use, including a monetary one from 2005: “If the company was founded by Ken Lay it may cost a toosh more than one founded by Alan Greenspan.” Toosh might be a variation of touch.

13. iota

I thought this word came from math, but as usual, my thoughts were as accurate as Wikipedia. Its original meaning was the Greek equivalent of the smallest letter, I. As with other words, a specific tiny meaning led to general use for tiny things. In 1786, U.S. President John Adams once used the word quite forcefully, threatening to “demand, in a tone that could not be resisted, the punctual fulfillment of every iota of the treaty on the part of Britain.”

14. tidge

Tidge might be the love child of tad and smidge. It's also reminiscent of a British word for a small penis: tadger, which Keith Richards used in his autobiography, Life to describe Mick Jagger’s reportedly diminutive assets.

15. thought

You wouldn’t think a word like thought would have many meanings, but you’d think wrong: it can mean a tiny amount, probably because of the immaterial nature of thoughts themselves. In Much Ado About Nothing, Shakespeare wrote, “I like the new tire within excellently, if the haire were a thought browner.”

16. hoot

Hoot first meant a shout or sound, just as it still does. As Green’s Dictionary of Slang records, this word is easily amplified with the expression "give a hoot in hell." And if you really don’t care, you "don’t give two hoots in hell." To not give three hoots in hell would set a new record for apathy, if anyone cared enough to record it.

Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss
15 Intriguing Facts About George Eliot
Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss
Image: London Stereoscopic Company, Getty Images. Background: iStock. Composite: Lucy Quintanilla, Mental Floss

Born in England in 1819, novelist and poet George Eliot is best remembered for writing classic books like Middlemarch and Silas Marner. Despite the time period she wrote in, the author—whose real name was Mary Anne (or Marian) Evans—was no stuffy Victorian. She had a famously scandalous love life and, among other linguistic accomplishments, is responsible for the term pop music. Here are 15 things you might not know about the beloved British writer.


Eliot was born on the grounds of Arbury Hall and Estate, a sprawling mansion in Warwickshire, England with hundreds of acres of surrounding gardens and farmland. Her father, Robert Evans, worked for the estate's owners, the Newdigate family, as a manager and agent. His job entailed collecting rents from tenant farmers and overseeing the property's coal mine.


Arbury Hall
Arbury Hall
Elliott Brown, Flickr // CC BY-SA 2.0

Eliot was just an infant when her family moved from Arbury Hall to a home in a nearby town. But Arbury and the Warwickshire countryside left their mark on her. In Scenes of Clerical Life (1858), Eliot's collection of three short stories, she wrote about the area and drew inspiration from real places and people. And some of her stories mirrored reality pretty closely. For instance, she turned Arbury Hall into Cheverel Manor, and Sir Roger Newdigate, Arbury's owner, into Sir Christopher Cheverel.


In the early 1850s, Eliot wrote for The Westminster Review, a London-based periodical founded by philosophers Jeremy Bentham and James Mill, contributing essays and reviews using the name Marian Evans. She soon became the de facto editor of the progressive journal, though her role was anonymous. Years later, other writers reviewed Eliot's own pseudonymous works in the journal she once edited.


Throughout her life, Eliot put her language skills to work translating foreign works into English. She translated books like David Friedrich Strauss's Das Leben Jesu (The Life of Jesus), a highly controversial German treatise that argued that Jesus Christ was a real person, but not divine. (Upon reading her translation, one English nobleman called it "the most pestilential book ever vomited out of the jaws of hell.") Eliot also translated The Essence of Christianity by German philosopher Ludwig Feuerbach and the Latin Ethics by Benedict de Spinoza, incorporating facets of these philosophical and religious ideas into her own writing.


Eliot was by no means a misogynist, but she did have some harsh words for fellow women writers. In an anonymous essay titled "Silly Novels by Lady Novelists," Eliot lamented the frivolous characters and unrealistic plots that she argued were nearly ubiquitous features of novels written by women at the time. Published in The Westminster Review in 1856, Eliot's essay asserted that these books, full of cliches and improbable romantic endings, made educated women look foolish. She also criticized the writing style of other women of her time, saying they mistook "vagueness for depth, bombast for eloquence, and affectation for originality." However, she did allow that not every book written by a woman fell into this trap, praising writers like Currer Bell (Charlotte Brontë) and Elizabeth Gaskell.


George Eliot, circa 1868.
George Eliot, circa 1868.
Hulton Archive, Getty Images

Eliot's appearance was a source of avid discussion during her lifetime, and her looks continue to fascinate readers today. Eliot herself joked about her ugliness in letters to friends, and the novelist Henry James once described her in a letter to his father as "magnificently ugly, deliciously hideous." He went on to say that the "horse-faced" writer had a "vast pendulous nose," a low forehead, and bad teeth, among other physical flaws.


Despite her plain appearance, men were drawn to Eliot. In the same letter where he called her "deliciously hideous," James explained his counterintuitive attraction towards her like this: "Now in this vast ugliness resides a most powerful beauty which, in a very few minutes, steals forth and charms the mind, so that you end, as I ended, in falling in love with her."

After various dalliances and a marriage proposal that she turned down, she spent more than two decades with the philosopher and critic George Lewes. But Lewes was already married, and as a result, many in Eliot's social circle (including her brother) shunned her. Though Lewes couldn't obtain an official divorce from his estranged wife, he and Eliot lived together as partners until his death in 1878, and she referred to herself as Mrs. Marian Lewes.


In 1856, both to avoid the sexism of the publishing industry and distance her literary work from her scandalous romantic situation, she adopted the pen name George Eliot, a male nom de plume that paid homage to Lewes. In addition to adopting his first name, some historians have also suggested that "Eliot" derives from "To L(ewes), I owe it."


After Lewes's death, Eliot channeled her grief by editing his writing and spending time with her lawyer and accountant, John Cross. Although Eliot was 60 and Cross was just 40, the two friends fell in love and married at London's St. George's Church in the spring of 1880.


After their wedding, the pair traveled to Venice, Italy for their honeymoon. Although Cross wrote a letter to his sister indicating that he was having a delightful time, Eliot knew something was wrong. Her new husband was depressed, agitated, and losing weight. She called a doctor to their hotel room and was speaking with him when Cross jumped off the balcony into the Grand Canal.

Cross was rescued by a hotel worker and the personal gondolier the couple had hired to take them around the waterways. The newlyweds eventually continued on their trip, and they remained married until Eliot's death later that year. Historians continue to speculate about the reason for his jump, and whether it was a suicide attempt—Cross may have had a personal and family history of mental illness—or some kind of heat-induced delirium. The mysterious incident was recently turned into a novel.


You probably don't associate George Eliot with Lady Gaga, but the Oxford English Dictionary credits the Victorian novelist with coining the term pop to refer to popular music. In November 1862, Eliot wrote in a birthday letter to a friend, "We have been to a Monday Pop. this week to hear Beethoven's Septet, and an amazing thing of Bach's played by the amazing Joachim. But there is too much 'Pop.' for the thorough enjoyment of the chamber music they give."


George Eliot statue in Nuneaton, Warwickshire, UK
George Eliot statue in Nuneaton, Warwickshire, UK

Diamond Geezer, Flickr // CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Eliot coined a number of other now-common terms in her writing. For instance, she was the first to use the word browser in the modern sense of someone who is casually looking around (like a browser in a bookstore). According to the Oxford English Dictionary, in the 16th century, the word browser meant “a person who cuts the leaves and twigs of trees to use as food for animals in winter." Later, it came to mean an animal that searched for leaves and twigs to eat. Eliot's historical novel Romola marked the first recorded time the word was used to mean a person generally surveying something. In it, she describes several friends of Florentine politician Bartolomeo Scala as "amiable browsers in the Medicean park."


Although Eliot was most famous for her novels, she also produced two volumes of poetry. Her first published piece of writing was a poem called "Knowing That Shortly I Must Put Off This Tabernacle." Published in The Christian Observer in 1840, the poem refers to the Bible and imagines a person who is about to die saying goodbye to Earth. In a later poem, "O May I Join the Choir Invisible," Eliot argues that improving the world during one's lifetime is the only way to achieve permanence.


Author Virginia Woolf praised Middlemarch's mature prose, referring to it as "the magnificent book which with all its imperfections is one of the few English novels written for grown-up people." And modern readers seem to agree. In 2015, a BBC poll of 82 book critics from around the world named Middlemarch the greatest British novel of all time. Several authors, including Julian Barnes and Martin Amis, have also listed the book as one of the greatest English novels ever written.


Griff House, where Eliot lived as an infant until her early twenties, still exists, but it's now home to a steakhouse and hotel. Called the Griff House Beefeater & Nuneaton Premier Travel Inn, the spot also features a pond, gardens, and a play area for kids.

The Surprising Link Between Language and Depression

Skim through the poems of Sylvia Plath, the lyrics of Kurt Cobain, or posts on an internet forum dedicated to depression, and you'll probably start to see some commonalities. That's because there's a particular way that people with clinical depression communicate, whether they're speaking or writing, and psychologists believe they now understand the link between the two.

According to a recent study published in Clinical Psychological Science, there are certain "markers" in a person's parlance that may point to symptoms of clinical depression. Researchers used automated text analysis methods to comb through large quantities of posts in 63 internet forums with more than 6400 members, searching for certain words and phrases. They also noted average sentence length, grammatical patterns, and other factors.

What researchers found was that a person's use (or overuse) of first-person pronouns can provide some insight into the state of their mental health. People with clinical depression tend to use more first-person singular pronouns, such as "I" and "me," and fewer third-person pronouns, like "they," "he," or "she." As Mohammed Al-Mosaiwi, a Ph.D. candidate in psychology at the University of Reading and the head of the study, writes in a post for IFL Science:

"This pattern of pronoun use suggests people with depression are more focused on themselves, and less connected with others. Researchers have reported that pronouns are actually more reliable in identifying depression than negative emotion words."

What remains unclear, though, is whether people who are more focused on themselves tend to depression, or if depression turns a person's focus on themselves. Perhaps unsurprisingly, people with depression also use more negative descriptors, like "lonely" and "miserable."

But, Al-Mosaiwi notes, it's hardly the most important clue when using language to assess clinical depression. Far better indicators, he says, are the presence of "absolutist words" in a person's speech or writing, such as "always," "constantly," and "completely." When overused, they tend to indicate that someone has a "black-and-white view of the world," Al-Mosaiwi says. An analysis of posts on different internet forums found that absolutist words were 50 percent more prevalent on anxiety and depression forums, and 80 percent more prevalent on suicidal ideation forums.

Researchers hope these types of classifications, supported by computerized methods, will prove more and more beneficial in a clinical setting.

[h/t IFL Science]


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