The breezy call of incense-breathing morn.
--
St. 5.Thomas Gray
Breathing my mother in,
Breathing my beloved in,
Breathing,
Breathing her nicotine,
Breathing,
Breathing the fall-out in,
Out in, out in, out in, out in.Kate Bush
I may not enter the garden,
Though I know the road thereto;
And morn by morn to the gateway
I see the children go.Francis Turner Palgrave
We watched her breathing through the night,
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro.Thomas Hood
There's a little book I'm thinking of writing — "Swan Song" is what I shall call it. The song of the dying. And my book will be incense burnt at the deathbed of this society, damned with the damnation of its own impotence.
Maxim Gorky
Louisiana in September was like an obscene phone call from nature. The air — moist, sultry, secretive, and far from fresh — felt as if it were being exhaled into one's face. Sometimes it even sounded like heavy breathing.
Tom Robbins
Gray, Thomas
Grayson, Alan
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