adjective
of, relating to, or resembling a rabbit or hare.
Leporine, “pertaining to or resembling a rabbit or hare,” a technical term in zoology, comes straight from the Latin adjective leporīnus, a derivative of the noun lepus (inflectional stem lepor-) “hare.” The etymology of lepus is obscure, but it may be related to Greek dialect léporis (Sicily) and lebērís (Marseille). Leporine entered English in the mid-17th century.
Of course, the Easter Bunny isn’t our only leporine hero. There is a general fascination with hares, bunnies, and rabbits in children’s literature and other aspects of popular and folk culture around the world.
His face looked naked, his teeth big and leporine.
noun
a hen's egg used for food.
Cackleberry, “an egg, a hen’s egg,” is a piece of facetious American slang. The word is a compound of the verb cackle “to utter a shrill, broken cry such as a hen makes” and the common noun berry “small fruit without a pit,” also used often in compounds such as strawberry or gooseberry.
“Cackleberries,” said Gately, picking up one of the eggs and examining it as though it were an emerald. “A genuine cackleberry.”
Klock had played swell ball all week, scampering around station one like a hare—the March variety, of course—but he wasn’t hitting hard enough to imperil the shell of a cackleberry.
noun
something that passes everywhere or provides a universal means of passage.
Passe-partout, “something that provides a universal means of passage; a master key, skeleton key,” comes from the French compound passe-partout, whose literal meaning is “(it) passes everywhere.” In French the phrase originally meant “a person who can go anywhere,” and slightly later “a master key.” The French verb passer “to pass” comes from Vulgar Latin passāre “to walk, step, pass,” from the Latin noun passus “pace, step.” Partout is a compound of par “through” and tout “all.” Par comes from the Latin preposition per “through”; tout comes from Latin tōtus “all, the whole of, complete.” Passe-partout entered English in the 17th century.
Journalists have an invisible passe-partout that allows them to roam the world and ask consequential people impertinent questions.
I conducted my own furtive tour of the French intelligence community and found that de Villiers’s name was a very effective passe-partout, even among people who found the subject mildly embarrassing.