What People In The World Think Of

Nobody Cares If You Can't Dance Well.

Fire Is The Test Of Gold; Adversity, Of Strong Men.

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.

The Next Time You Look Into The Mirror, Just Look At The Way The Ears Rest Next To The Head; Look At The Way The Hairline Grows; Think Of All The Little Bones In Your Wrist. It Is A Miracle. And The Dance Is A Celebration Of That Miracle.

It Takes About Ten Years To Make A Mature Dancer. The Training Is Twofold. There Is The Study And Practice Of The Craft In Order To Strengthen The Muscular Structure Of The Body. The Body Is Shaped, Disciplined, Honored, And In Time, Trusted. The Movement Become Clean, Precise, Eloquent, Truthful. Movement Never Lies. It Is A Barometer Telling The State Of The Soul's Weather To All Who Can Read It. This Might Be Called The Law Of The Dancer's Life, The Law Which Governs Its Outer Aspects