Don't fiddle with the typewriter.
She is pecking away at the keys of a typewriter.
First it was the telegram, then the typewriter.
But we all knew something was happening when we heard the unmistakable striking of typewriter keys.
I understand that. I find the business of getting up in the morning and going to the typewriter absolutely awful.
There was no desk, no bookcase, not even a table, only the nasty couch, with a typewriter on another milk crate in front of it.
If his dream was to live in the woods, with a fireplace and a typewriter and sheaves of notes hooked on the wall, almost like a deaf-mute in his dealings with the world, that was his affair.
But typewriter is slow.
I heard the typewriter clacking in the next office.
She took the liberty of using your typewriter while you were away.
I sat in my dad’s study and plunked out my first “novel” on a manual typewriter when I was eight.
I was still alive, and I still had a daughter whom I adored; and I had an old typewriter and a big idea.
An electric typewriter would hasten the work.
This model of typewriter is efficient and durable, economical and practical for middle school students.
How can I believe in God when only last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?
The typewriter is obsolete.
He gave me his old Underwood typewriter and I set it up in the basement.
I remember an impassioned eulogy for the typewriter delivered years ago by one of my newspaper colleagues: how, he asked, could we write on a keyboard that made no sound?
There's a reason why we're not still writing in shorthand, he says: "The typewriter was easier and less tiring."
I've taken my typewriter in for an overhaul.
He took all afternoon on each one of them, on account of having to hunt for each letter on the typewriter.
She tapped out a news story on the typewriter.
