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A tiny cavity filled with fluid in the cytoplasm of a cell
Answer for the clue "A tiny cavity filled with fluid in the cytoplasm of a cell ", 7 letters:
vacuole
Alternative clues for the word vacuole
Word definitions for vacuole in dictionaries
The Collaborative International Dictionary
Word definitions in The Collaborative International Dictionary
Vacuole \Vac"u*ole\, n. [L. vacuus empty: cf. F. vacuole.] (Biol.) A small air cell, or globular space, in the interior of organic cells, either containing air, or a pellucid watery liquid, or some special chemical secretions of the cell protoplasm. Contractile ...
Wikipedia
Word definitions in Wikipedia
A vacuole is a membrane -bound organelle which is present in all plant and fungal cells and some protist , animal and bacterial cells. Vacuoles are essentially enclosed compartments which are filled with water containing inorganic and organic molecules ...
Wiktionary
Word definitions in Wiktionary
n. (context cytology English) A large membrane-bound vesicle in a cell's cytoplasm.
Douglas Harper's Etymology Dictionary
Word definitions in Douglas Harper's Etymology Dictionary
"small cavity or vesicle," 1853, from French vacuole , from Medieval Latin vacuola , formed as a diminutive of Latin vacuus "empty" (see vacuum (n.)).
WordNet
Word definitions in WordNet
n. a tiny cavity filled with fluid in the cytoplasm of a cell
Usage examples of vacuole.
We got out in time to see Suzanna reach the blurry boundary of the vacuole, the place that presumably still looked from the other side like a sheet of impossible lava.
The wall had swallowed Suzanna and our lovely old pup, and left us nothing but his poor tail, which the damned weird vacuole wall had bitten off and left lying there like a lump of garbage.
Way too late, I was already passing smoothly out of the vacuole into the garage.
The amethyst light of the vacuole remained undimmed, but the green fabric of the tent reduced the illumination quite a bit.
Storing the teddy in the vacuole was probably the most considerate thing my fruitcake of a father had ever done.
The blast of air hit us again, but this time from behind, carrying grit from outside, as the vacuole imploded away from our reality into its own constricted dimensions, snatching away the physical support from beneath the crust of nanoids.
The vacuole inflated again back into our universe, instantly, pushing aside the air that had just rushed in to fill the gap left by its abrupt absence.
For the moment, he was contenting himself with protruding these detectors out through a discontinuity in the vacuole, phase-shifting it on and off in short bursts, without of course doing anything so rash, this time, as actually pushing his head outside.
Weeping, we carried her into the vacuole and laid her on a foam rubber mattress.
We had been returned through the bowels of the Earth to the vacuole, and the time jump had been triggered by Gaia.
We emerged from the lava-face of the vacuole and found signs of humanity almost at once.
It was creepy as hell, because this time, unlike the vacuole, I was somehow aware of what was going on and altogether unable to do anything about it.
In that timeless moment, so unlike the head-splitting green flash future-jump of the vacuole, I sobbed again with happiness to find her there, if only for a moment.
When at last we released the vacuole, or it collapsed, released our reprieved lives, the very subatomic particles we were made of would become literally the last things in all the cosmos, and in further trillions and gazillions of frigid years even their feeble few kilos would have evaporated to nothingness.
It was evening when I stumbled out of the vacuole constriction and found myself inside the garage.