The Body Is A Sacred Garment.

You Will Only Get Out Of A Dance Class What You Bring To It. Learn By Practice.

No Artist Is Pleased. There Is No Satisfaction Whatever At Any Time. There Is Only A Strange, Divine Dissatisfaction, A Blessed Unrest That Keeps Us Marching And Makes Us More Alive Than The Others.

Dancers Today Can Do Anything; The Technique Is Phenomenal. The Passion And The Meaning To Their Movement Can Be Another Thing.

A Dancer, More Than Any Other Human Being, Dies Two Deaths: The First, The Physical When The Powerfully Trained Body Will No Longer Respond As You Would Wish. After All, I Choreographed For Myself. I Never Choreographed What I Could Not Do. I Changed Steps In Medea And Other Ballets To Accommodate The Change. But I Knew. And It Haunted Me. I Only Wanted To Dance.

There Is A Vitality, A Life Force, A Quickening That Is Translated Through You Into Action, And Because There Is Only One Of You In All Time, This Expression Is Unique, And If You Block It, It Will Never Exist Through Any Other Medium, And Be Lost. The World Will Not Have It. It Is Not Your Business To Determine How Good It Is, Not How It Compares With Other Expression. It Is Your Business To Keep It Yours Clearly And Directly, To Keep The Channel Open.