用frets造句子，“frets”造句

The earliest banjo was a gourd with two or more long strings, a shorter drone string and no frets.

In particular, the Department of Energy frets about certain metals used in manufacturing wind turbines, electric vehicles, solar cells and energy-efficient lighting.

The Securities and Exchange Commission frets that looser rules will let key derivative traders, such as hedge funds, off the hook.

While the rest of the nation frets over the rising proportion of boys to girls, in Shanghai it is successful single women who are finding it increasingly hard to find a spouse.

life's but a walking shadow,a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage,and then is heard no more; it is tale told by an idiot,full of sound and fury,signifying nothing. 人生不過是一個行走的影子，一個在舞台上指手劃腳的笨拙的憐人，登場片刻，便在無聲無息中悄然退去，這是一個愚人所講的故事，充滿了喧譁和騷動，卻一無所指。

The river frets at its banks until a new channel is formed.

"Because there is more than words cloud:" only frets sweet plum trees, not blood thousands of carry on the boat.

Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more.

He frets about sewage in north Gaza, but is also worried that Europe and the US have still not grasped the enormity of the shift of power to Asia.

The globalization that Friedman frets over was critical to the Indian rebirth.

He also frets that heavy-handed regulation may stop America from taking advantage of its vast reserves of shale gas.

As the country frets about extricating itself from the financial mess, there is one group of Americans to whom the rest of us owe the most sincere words of apology.

It heaves and frets beneath the artificial political map like some misfitted giant.

A recent report by the Southern Poverty Law Centre describes an uptick in the number of "Patriot" militia groups since Mr Obama's election and frets that some could turn violent.

The fake fingernails on Ms Wu's right hand pluck the strings, while her left hand fingers the frets.

That struts and frets his hour upon the stage.

In contrast to the fearless Victorian explorers he quotes, Sir Vidia frets that one herbalist may have cursed him with a nose tickle.

And all our yesterdays have lighted fools The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing.