Dance Quotes - Page 3

Watching dance isn't about picking up moves. It's about noting the relationships between motion and space and rhythm to absorb a greater concept

Dance, Live, Sing, Cry, Love, Travel and Love again, until the day you have to stop

Be like a peacock and dance with all of your beauty.

The beautiful wooden board on a stand in my father’s study. The gleaming ivory pieces. The stern king. The haughty queen. The noble knight. The pious bishop. And the game itself, the way each piece contributed its individual power to the whole. It was simple. It was complex. It was savage; it was elegant. It was a dance; it was a war. It was finite and eternal. It was life.

Some bow to the spirit of collectivism, while you ascend to the spirit of your own eclectic rhythms.

Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.

Hard and dry, a chickpea is inedible.Hard and dry, a heart is unlovable.Presoak it in dance, music and art.

I was afraid of the dance once, too. But I learned to embrace it and the mistakes I would make. Do not turn away from your fear. Turn toward love instead.

Any earthly production would have been cancelled at the slightest suggestion of rain, but this was William’s Stage—it was William’s call—and if the children danced and the congregation remained transfixed, the show would go on.

She will blaze through you like a gypsy wildfire. Igniting you soul and dancing in its flames. And when she is gone, the smell of her smoke will be the only thing left to soothe you.

Really? We are being herded on a bus to drive across town to an all-boy academy where we disembark and join our lonely counterparts on a dance floor. Sounds like a scorecard situation to me.

For some reason, the sight of snow descending on fire always makes me think of the ancient world – legionaries in sheepskin warming themselves at a brazier: mountain altars where offerings glow between wintry pillars; centaurs with torches cantering beside a frozen sea – scattered, unco-ordinated shapes from a fabulous past, infinitely removed from life; and yet bringing with them memories of things real and imagined. These classical projections, and something in the physical attitudes of the men themselves as they turned from the fire, suddenly suggested Poussin’s scene in which the Seasons, hand in hand and facing outward, tread in rhythm to the notes of the lyre that the winged and naked greybeard plays. The image of Time brought thoughts of mortality: of human beings, facing outwards like the Seasons, moving hand in hand in intricate measure: stepping slowly, methodically, sometimes a trifle awkwardly, in evolutions that take recognisable shape: or breaking into seeminly meaningless gyrations, while partners disappear only to reappear again, once more giving pattern to the spectacle: unable to control the melody, unable, perhaps, to control the steps of the dance.

Caution not spirit, let it roam wild; for in that natural state dance embraces divine frequency.

They had met at a club fifteen years before, Etta and Magnus. He had convinced her to dance with him, and she said she had been in love by the end of the song. He told her he had been in love before the beginning.

Lord I thank you for the gift of breath, eyes to see, ears to hear, tongue to taste, nose to smell, mouth to speak, face to smile, voice to sing, body to dance, legs to walk, mind to think and hands to write.

Robot. Is. Sad. Because silly bitch. Will. Not. Dance.

Life is the faith of a dance dream.

shall we dance into the perpetual torture of our union once more?

If you’re not already at practice after watching BC One, you’re fucking up.

I am grateful to those who are keepers of the groove. The babies and the grandmas who hang on to it and help us remember when we forget that any kind of dancing is better than no dancing at all.

I was a swan, but ripped apart and taped haphazardly back together again.

Dance it off.

She hasn’t got it all figured out...far from it, in fact.But she loves God and she loves to dance…and she’s her own “Better Half.”The bravest woman I know?She is the reason I do what I do.She is The Single Woman.She’s me…and she’s you.

A dalliance with poetry before we dance.

Dance is medicine. Movement is potent. Empower yourself with it today.

You consider me for a moment, perhaps balancing the weight of your fear against the loneliness you will later feel in your room if you do not speak now

The problem is not making up the steps but deciding which ones to keep.

I will howl with the wolves, soar above the eagles and roam wild with the Mustang. I will breathe life into the sunrise atop a mountain, bathe naked in the streams, dance in the sunset and love beneath the stars, travelling far and wide, seeking new experiences with those who dare to run with the wind, dare to touch the storm that is me...

How small life is hereand how big nothingness.The sky, tired of light,has given everything to the snow.The two trees bowtheir heads to each other.Clouds cross the world’ssilence in a circle dance

Movement is the freedom of the body; stillness, of the mind.

Blood cannot be without dancing. There is no dancing without blood.

Wind either breaks a tree or teaches it to dance.

People dance because dance can change things. One move, can bring people together. One move, can make you believe like there's something more. One move, can set a whole generation free.

Sabine used to maintain that preparation for a dance is comparable to what goes on in the back room of a butcher's shop: the meat for consumption is sliced and dressed and put in nice little paper packages, ready for the kitchen.

Dancing is surely the most basic and relevant of all forms of expression. Nothing else can so effectively give outward form to an inner experience. Poetry and music exist in time. Painting and architecture are a part of space. But only the dance lives at once in both space and time. In it the creator and the thing created, the artist and the expression, are one. Each participates completely in the other. There could be no better metaphor for an understanding of the mechanics of the cosmos.

Chaos is nothing more than beauty about to dance.

I danced as he twirled in and out of consciousness, and there we were, one in love and the other astray.

Jim Crow, moreover, was seen executing his world-renowned dance, in gingerbread.

Spirit is a child, the tune of dancing feet its lullaby.

The Indian danced on alone. The crowd clapped up the beat. The Indian danced with a chair. The crowd went crazy. The band faded. The crowd cheered. The Indian held up his hands for silence as if to make a speech. Looking at the band and then the crowd, the Indian said, "Well, what're you waiting for? Let's DANCE.

LIfe is just a game of chance, a dance with fate if you let it be so. Or you could chose to play by your rules to win.

Into each dance must be packed the panic and ecstasy of her last moment of life, for underneath was death.

O wayfarer! Yearn finds quench, not in meadows, seashores or altitude of mountain peaks; but when being and dance are one.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Dancing every night is great sport.

Without any music, I started to dance. I wanted the music to be inside me, or at least for it to appear that way. I imagined myself the lead with an audience here to see me perform in a famous ballet. In my fantasy, there was no panic attack. I was free to dance. Free to be me.

I have drunk the night and swallowed the stars. I am dancing with abandon and singing with rapture. There is not a thing I do not love. There is not a person I have not forgiven. I feel a universe of love. I feel a universe of light. Tonight, I am with old friends and we are returning home. The moon is our witness.

May I see your dance card?”“Don’t you believe me?” She presented it to him with a flourish.He ran his fingers down the list of names.“Hmm . . . Waterburn? Bastard. D’Andre. Definitely a worthless bastard. Lord Camber, a thoroughgoing bastard. Lord Michaelson? Bastard. Peter Cheswick? Bast—”She snatched it from him, laughing.“I wouldn’t dance a waltz with you, anyway, Lord Dryden.”“No?”“You might accidentally lock eyes with Lisbeth Redmond, stumble, and fling me across the room to avoid crushing my feet.

Every dance you make belongs to you. It is part of your collection. When you think of it like that, you'll want to make your next routine the best you've ever made!

What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself."I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.

Dance is not dance, if you don't do it from your heart.

I like the way he danced. And then I like the way we danced together.

Dance to music in your soul.

Forget your voice, sing!Forget your feet, dance!Forget your life, live!Forget yourself and be!

They dined on mince, and slices of quinceWhich they ate with a runcible spoon;And hand in hand, on the edge of the sand,They danced by the light of the moon.

It's the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.

We dance to seduce ourselves. To fall in love with ourselves. When we dance with another, we manifest the very thing we love about ourselves so that they may see it and love us too.

I love zombies. If any monster could Riverdance, it would be zombies.

Ballroom dancing was inherently social, but steps replaced words and beats ironed out pauses. The shy, the awkward, and the weird found a home where good rhythm or a barn of a memory vanquished their shyness, awkwardness, and weirdness. Some got good while others stayed middling. Everyone, though, had fun.

For when Iwaltzed with Chris, I'd made him someone else.