GRE Vocabulary: Degree

Pigeons were ubiquitous around the train station, perched on every lamp, bench, and ledge.

Showers stayed sporadic through the weekend, with long dry gaps between brief bursts of rain.

The reading room posted a categorical ban on food, allowing no exceptions for snacks or drinks.

Hikers found scant water at the ridge spring, only a thin film over the stones.

Roses were profuse along the fence, so many that fallen petals hid the path.

The baker raised the oven heat in incremental steps, five degrees at a time, until the crust browned.

The orange blaze on the oak was unequivocal, leaving no doubt which fork the trail took.

The naturalist's notebook held copious sketches of the same tide pool, page after page of shells and weeds.

A dearth of lettuce followed the frost, and the market stalls had none to sell.

The chemist had only an exiguous sample, a few grains at the bottom of the vial.

A modicum of shade from one awning was all the painters had at noon.

The soup needed an iota of salt, no more than a pinch.

Not a scintilla of doubt remained after the repeated measurements all matched.

A myriad of stars filled the desert sky, too many for the campers to count.

A plethora of banners crowded the gym, far more than the ceiling hooks could hold.

A surfeit of berries left the kitchen counters buried, and the jam jars ran out before the fruit did.

The harvest table was a cornucopia of squash, apples, and bread, piled higher than the centerpiece.

A glut of peaches dropped the price at the farm stand, because crates sat unsold in the heat.

After a long shift, the tip jar held a pittance, barely enough coins for a bus ticket.

Travelers had only a smattering of the local language, enough for hello and thank you and little else.

A superfluity of chairs lined the hall, with empty seats left after every guest had sat down.

A deluge of applications arrived on Monday, covering every table in the mail room.

A spate of repair calls hit the shop after the storm, one after another for three hours.

Ants were legion in the picnic grass, streaming from more mounds than the children could find.

Poppies grew in profusion across the hillside, a red wash from the road to the ridge.

The donation box held a paltry sum, a few coins that would not buy even one notebook.

Visitors spent an inordinate time in line, nearly two hours for a ticket printed in one minute.

An infinitesimal speck of dust on the lens still blurred the telescope image.

The aggregate of ticket sales from all three nights filled the final column of the ledger.

Blue marbles held a preponderance in the jar, far outnumbering the red and green.

Each sibling received a moiety of the orchard, the east rows for one and the west rows for the other.

The cumulative total in the stamp album rose each month as new issues were pasted in.

The new bus route saved only a marginal amount of time, about two minutes on a one-hour ride.

Residual heat kept the kettle warm long after the burner was turned off.

Readers owed a nominal fine of one cent, a real charge so small it bought nothing at the lobby shop.

The shallow harbor was teeming with minnows, a flicker of silver in every scoop of water.

The pantry was replete with jars, every shelf full from top to bottom.

The winning pumpkin was prodigious, so heavy that two people were needed to roll it onto the scale.

A colossal marble foot, taller than the visitors, was all that remained of the ancient statue.

The deli built a gargantuan sandwich, stacked so high it would not fit in a normal takeout box.

The map's minuscule print forced readers to use a magnifying glass for the street names.

The child played a diminutive violin, small enough to fit inside a lunch box.

The capacious tote swallowed the groceries, with room left for a loaf on top.

The actor's voluminous cloak spread across three chairs when she sat down.

Voices echoed in the empty hangar, a cavernous space whose far wall was hard to see.

The ferry cabin was commodious, with benches enough that no passenger had to stand.

The observatory called the repair bill astronomical, many times the price of a new eyepiece.

The speech was truncated when the bell rang, stopping in the middle of a sentence.

The gold wire was tenuous, thin enough to pass through a needle.

The ponderous iron gate took two people to swing, and it groaned on its hinges.

A mammoth stack of exam booklets blocked the office door, rising well above the handle.

The pond organisms were microscopic, invisible until the class turned on the microscope.

From the hill the prairie looked boundless, with no fence or tree marking an end.

A low rope delimited the play area, and the children were asked to stay inside it.

The parade hat was disproportionate to the child, the brim sliding down to rest on the shoulders.

The stipend was commensurate with the hours, rising whenever the shift grew longer.

The lilliputian chairs in the dollhouse were so small that a thumbnail covered a whole seat.

A brobdingnagian boot led the parade, tall enough that marchers passed beneath its arch.

That behemoth of a cargo ship blocked the channel, and smaller boats waited for it to pass.

The mascot's outsized glove made a normal baseball look like a marble in the palm.

The runner passed the baton with celerity, gone before the cheer had finished.

The clerk gave brisk service, stamping the parcel and handing back the receipt in under a minute.

Progress at the permit window was glacial, the line barely moving across a full hour.

Their headlong exit left coats on the chairs, a rush at the first bell with no time to gather them.

The newsroom grew frenetic near deadline, with people half-running between desks.

The lamp's instantaneous flash lit the room and was gone before anyone could blink.

The hikers kept a plodding pace on the muddy slope, only a few steps each minute.

The sled took the icy hill at breakneck speed, and the riders leaned hard to stay on.

The test rocket's meteoric climb carried it out of sight within seconds of launch.

The harbor master called the boats in posthaste when the squall line showed on the horizon.

Students left pell-mell at the alarm, bags and jackets gathered in no particular order.

The loom's rapidity astonished the visitors, who could not follow the shuttle with their eyes.

The clerk handled each request with dispatch, finishing one before the next person reached the counter.

The chilled lizard stayed torpid on the rock until the sun had warmed it for an hour.

The mechanic's account of the repair was protracted, running past lunch before it reached the end.

The sidewalk mural was ephemeral, gone with the first afternoon shower.

Breath on the cold window was evanescent, vanishing as soon as the room warmed.

The detour was transitory, and the signs came down once the bridge reopened the next week.

The comet offered only a fleeting view between clouds, gone before the binoculars were focused.

The courtyard fountain was perpetual, running day and night with no shutoff.

Incessant rain on the tin roof kept the campers awake, with no pause from dusk until dawn.

The lighthouse beam was intermittent, bright, then dark, then bright again.

Fitful gusts fed the campfire, lifting the flame and then letting it drop, with no steady wind.

The old pump ran in a spasmodic rhythm, gushing briefly and then stopping cold.

The noon heat was unremitting, and for hours no cloud or breeze eased it.

Flooding at that bend was recurrent, returning each spring after the snowmelt.

Mint in the herb bed was perennial, coming up every spring without being replanted.

The baker's quotidian round began at four, the same dough and the same ovens every morning.

By evening, talk of the race was rife in the camp, repeated at nearly every picnic table.

The ranger called the mosquitoes endemic to that marsh, recorded in every summer log for twenty years.

The smell of baking bread was pervasive, noticeable from the front door through to the back porch.

Clocks seemed omnipresent in the station, one in the hall, on the platforms, and in every waiting room.

The dripping faucet was a chronic nuisance, going on for months before the washer was replaced.

The clinic note described the fever as acute, harsh that evening and gone by the next afternoon.

The crowd at the rural station was transient, stepping off one train and boarding the next.

The fugacious scent of the orange blossoms faded before visitors reached the end of the row.

The canyon river seemed sempiternal to the geologist, still cutting rock as it had beyond recorded time.

The fish market was diurnal, open from dawn and shut before dusk on every working day.

Those moths were nocturnal, missing from the garden at noon and thick around the lamp after dark.

The schedule stayed tentative, penciled in and subject to change if the speaker's train ran late.

The unmarked path looked dubious, and the ranger would not say it still reached the lake.

The geometry proof was apodictic, each step following so that no doubt was left.

The putative author of the unsigned notes was the instructor, though the pages carried no name.

The ostensible reason for closing the bridge was repairs, yet no crew appeared all week.

The match was indubitable when both clocks, started together, stopped on the same second.

The picnic stayed contingent on clear skies, and the group would remain home if rain was forecast.

In shop class it was axiomatic that a level, balanced beam stays level, a point nobody had to prove.