Something to pick

Usage examples of guitar.

The sidewalk was filled with anorectic individuals of ambiguous gender, hugging guitar cases as if they were life preservers, dragging deeply on cigarettes and regarding the passing traffic with spaced-out apprehension.

On the dawning light hung, trembling, the notes of a pastoral aubade somebody was picking out on a guitar.

She was about to give up in defeat, go downstairs and tell the police that Julia must have taken the head shots with her when she went to her audition, when she saw the large manila envelope peeking out from under the shaft of the guitar.

Watson n that wis barry cos wi baith played guitar n hud the same name eh.

Blues screw that might have driven a lesser Bluesman to shoot hisself, get shot, get hold of some bad liquor, or bust up his guitar and take a job down to the mill.

With its accumulation of bongos, drums, guitars and other instruments, it became one of the main hanging-out rooms in the house.

There were small round tables, low backless stools for jazz buffs to sit on with knees hunched, and a bossa nova trio consisting of guitar, bass, and drums.

Lee Prewitt had learned to play a guitar long before he ever learned to bugle or to box.

Anderson and Friday Clark stopped on their way out to ask him if he wanted to sit in when they got the guitars out, later on, Andy who was on guard bugler wearing the web pistol belt and long black holster with the lanyard from the butt up over his shoulder passing under the tucked in tie, and the bugle that he must never let out of sight while on guard hanging down his back.

Andy, who as company bugler had to go with the CP, would ride over every night with his guitar from the CP in the light truck that brought the lieutenant to inspect the posts.

But bugling meant nothing to them, except as a means to escape straight duty and to get more time to practise on guitars.

When he returned from his Charm excursion, Astor put off his guitar practice again while he contacted James Faucumberg to discuss bringing the ceilidh band down from Scotland to do some recording for Kiron Sounds.

The worthy Consul was smoking his chibouque, and his daughter, as she rose to greet their guest, let her guitar fall upon the turf.

Spitmobile guns right past us, Chugger yanks the wheel to the left, and the back end swings around to collide climactically against the front end of the Bronco, sending a precious shrapnel of bouncing snare drums, splintering guitars, squirming black cables, and jury-rigged electronics.

It resembles the flitting of some gipsy, or rather it reminds me of an engraving in a book of fables I owned in my childhood: the whole thing is exactly like the slender wardrobe and the long guitar which the cicala who had sung all the summer, carried upon her back when she knocked at the door of her neighbor the ant.