“The song was born on her breathe and died at her lips.”

“The notes were born on her breath, and they died at her lips.”

“Outside, as she passed the kitchen window, she watched her breath appear before her in the lamplight and then it died away in moist clouds. This was the smoke of her internal fire and her soul. Every breath was a letter to the world. These she mailed into the cold air leaning back with pursed lips to send it upward. ”

“Her soft pink lips, her sweet breath . . . oh, how my soul beckons hers.”

“Head held high and lips parted, she breathed in the music, sending it through her torso and arms and legs the way the Tai Chi teacher told us to breath the air, transforming it into energy, motion. Dancing is the body's song, and Bess sang.”

“At last." He breathed into her, finding her lips. "You found me," she whispered. "Always.”