“A gut-string classical Spanish guitar, a sweet, lovely little lady. The smell of it. Even now, to open a guitar case, when it's an old wooden guitar, I could crawl in and close the lid.”

“those times i burned my guitar it was like a sacrifice. we all burn things we love. i love my guitar”

“Garcia had traded his Sears electric guitar for an acoustic model shortly after arriving in Palo Alto, and late that spring Barbara bought him a better guitar, and shortly after that, a lovely sounding Stella twelve-string.”

“I wanted to smell the guitars. It's hard to explain but they have a smell. And the best way I could ever describe it would be to say they smell like potential. Ambition and desire. If such things had a smell.”

“What's the difference between a classical guitar and a pizza? A pizza can feed a family of four.”

“Scott smirked. "You know it's always worse when you're around. And I still think I can keep up with you. Of course, you're going to drive off, go back home, drink a fifth and play guitar all night and not feel a thing. On the other hand, I'll be up thirteen times to take a piss before five AM, have a hella case of acid reflux and sore fingers from shredding guitar strings.”