Mover's burden

Usage examples of carton.

The clothespress held not only his clothing but more cartons of souvenirs.

I imagined her decoupaging orange crates, making clever hanging ornaments out of egg cartons festooned with plastic sprigs of lily of the valley.

George opened the great doors and let the driver lead his horses to the rear of the warehouse, near the blue square, where Artemius and the driver stacked the cartons on the floor.

He walked to one of the cartons, pulled out a dustrag, shook it clean over the box, and handed it to her.

She had taken out a carton of milk and a packet of gingersnaps and was dipping each cookie into the milk before she took a bite.

Breit kept his eyes fixed on Luis for several moments, long enough to tug a cigarette from the little carton, pulling his eyes away only to match his lighter flame to the tip.

Doyak screamed madly as the third trooper threw a paperboard carton of lime colored cubes at his head.

This meeting place between Man and Alien might have been set down prepacked in this desert valley, clipped off the back of a cereal carton.

Thus, this evidence does not connect Oswald with the source of the shots and is meaningless, because Oswald normally handled such cartons in the building as part of his work.

Shirtless young men were tossing cartons of Spam and tins of ammunition from hand to hand up the beach to one of the bungalows that had been turned into a depot.

Tun Goldhorn guided the Coors beer truck to a stop near the store, and while cartons of six-packs, tallboys, and quintos were going into the Rael coolers, along came the Trailways bus.

She looked angry enough to crack open the house like an egg carton and spill the twins out and smash them.

Here and there he paused to set something aside, to study a page, or a picture, crumpled with the rest till the carton was full and he carried it in to the hearth, down digging for matches, heaping the empty grate, pulling the wing chair closer as the blaze came up, sitting there with the notebook unopened on his lap.

Warren was deciding it was time for a drink, and we stood for a while in the fine warm night near one of the bars drinking Bacardi and Coke out of throwaway cartons.

Shadow stood bemused in a weak cyclone of detritus you know the way trash has in cities of playing ring-a-roses for helpless hours in a pocket of wind: food cartons, snout packs, beercans, all in their afterlife of headless chickens.