I had been flicking through the pages of an old journal, heavily laden with words, during my procedural typing up of the novel I'd been working on. As I turned the page, I spotted a pulled out note from a waiter's pad with just this message written on. I forget the context of it now, but can say that the intended inflection on 'is' carries a double meaning; the piece becomes like a simple teaching.
Never forget the
reason you breathe.
It is to live
and love
and die.
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