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— Mark Twain"In my nostrils still lives the breath of flowers that perished twenty years ago."
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The work of a writer, his continuing work, depends for breath of life on a certain privacy of heart.
— Tennessee Williams
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Those trees are your lungs. The earth recycles as your body. The rivers recycle as your circulation. The air is your breath. So what do we call the environment?
— Deepak Chopra
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