Muses Work All Day Long And Then

The Dance Instills In You Something That Sets You Apart. Something Heroic And Remote.

It Requires Courage To Make A Frontal Attack On Nature Through The Broad Planes And The Large Lines And It Is Cowardly To Do It By The Facets And Details. It Is A Battle.

And Even This Heart Of Mine Has Something Artificial. The Dancers Have Sewn It Into A Bag Of Pink Satin, Pink Satin Slightly Faded, Like Their Dancing Shoes.

The Air You Breathe In A Picture Is Not Necessarily The Same As The Air Out Of Doors.

There Is Love, And There Is Work; And We Have Only One Heart.