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The one thing I would like to say is:
Life is a pleasant custom. Life wings spread out as much as death's. Life leaps as high as love. Life is not something to be left behind by you or me on the edge of the habit's shelf. Life is the ecstasy of a hand picking. Life is the taste of seasons first black figs in the acrid mouth of summer. Life is one dimension of the tree in the eyes of an insect. Life is the experience of a moth in darkness. Life is that strange sense possessed by a migrating bird. Life is a train's whistle reverberating in the sleep of a bridge. Life is seeing a flower bed from the enclosed window of an airplane. Life is the news of a rocket launched into space. Life is feeling the moon's loneliness Life is the idea of smelling flowers on another planet. Life is washing a dish. Life is finding a 10-shahi coin in the gutter. Life is the square root of a mirror. Life is a flower raised to the power of eternity. Life is the earth multiplied by the number of our heartbeats