My mad dash for the bus left me gasping for breath.
I took a long breath before speaking again.
When Oscar Wilde allegedly gestured at the garish wallpaper in his cheap Parisian hotel room and announced with his dying —breath, “Either it goes or I go,” he was exhibiting something beyond an irrepressibly brilliant wit. —Tom Robbins, Harper's, September 2004
I ski as far as I can and stop (in these relatively low-altitude coastal mountains, you don't stop for breath the way you sometimes do in Colorado; here you stop when your legs demand a break) … —Lito Tejada-Flores, Skiing, February 1999