Nobody Cares If You Can't Dance Well.

The Body Is Your Instrument In Dance, But Your Art Is Outside That Creature, The Body. I Don't Leap And Jump Anymore. I Look At Young Dancers, And I Am Envious, More Aware Of What Glories The Body Contains. But Sensitivity Is Not Made Dull By Age.

I Did Not Choose To Be A Dancer. I Was Chosen.

Looking At The Past Is Like Lolling In A Rocking Chair. It Is So Relaxing And You Can Rock Back And Forth On The Porch, And Never Go Forward.

I Am Absorbed In The Magic Of Movement And Light. Movement Never Lies. It Is The Magic Of What I Call The Outer Space Of The Imagination.

I Don't Try To Tell The Dancers Exactly What A Dance Means Before They Do It.