[Roughing It by Mark Twain]@TWC D-Link bookRoughing It CHAPTER XXII 8/12
I do not mean the oldest and driest mummies, of course, but the fresher ones. The air up there in the clouds is very pure and fine, bracing and delicious.
And why shouldn't it be ?--it is the same the angels breathe. I think that hardly any amount of fatigue can be gathered together that a man cannot sleep off in one night on the sand by its side.
Not under a roof, but under the sky; it seldom or never rains there in the summer time.
I know a man who went there to die.
But he made a failure of it. He was a skeleton when he came, and could barely stand.
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