Best 1204 quotes in «dance quotes» category

If you can dance like raindrops, there will always be sunshine.

If you can talk, you can sing. If you can walk, you can dance.

If you want people to dance to your tune, sing beautiful songs.

I had learned quickly that life doesn't always go the way I want it to, and that's okay. I still plod on.

I hate gender stereotypes like girls love princesses and boys like guns. . . my point is that tying particular behaviors and interests to particular gender seems to be the major reason guys who like dance get called names.

If you desire a joyful heart, dance daily.

If you dance to rhythm of music in your heart, you will restore your soul, and revive your spirit.

If you dance daily, you shall expel any seed of distress in thy soul.

If you don't make history, you just become history!

I have the urge to fly, to celebrate, to dance, to sing! My happiness can’t be told or expressed, it can’t be described, and it’s impossible to confine it.

I have waltzed with wolves and howled at the moon. But my heart will always remember the slow-dance that ended much too soon.

I kept wanting to go back on the stage and do it again since I had so much fun and felt so accomplished. It seemed that I had regained a lot of the confidence that I knew I had years before when I performed onstage all the time.

If you listen to music daily, you find strength of survival.

I love to dance daily.

I made the sympathetic face, and the interested face, and even the impressed face. I did not say, 'In the name of all that is holy, cease this incessant drivel, you pretentious ass.

I'm not ashamed of heroic ambitions. If man and woman can only dance upon this earth for a few countable turns of the sun... let each of us be an Artemis, Odysseus, or Zeus... Aphrodite to the extent of the will of each one.

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.

I never set out to create a technique. I started out on the floor to find myself, to find what the body could do, and what would give me satisfaction - emotionally, dramatically and bodily. But I did not ever dream of establishing a technique. I still can't believe anything like that happened.

In her fantastic mood she stretched her soft, clasped hands upward toward the moon. 'Sweet moon,' she said in a kind of mock prayer, 'make your white light come down in music into my dancing-room here, and I will dance most deliciously for you to see". She flung her head backward and let her hands fall; her eyes were half closed, and her mouth was a kissing mouth. 'Ah! sweet moon,' she whispered, 'do this for me, and I will be your slave; I will be what you will.' Quite suddenly the air was filled with the sound of a grand invisible orchestra. Viola did not stop to wonder. To the music of a slow saraband she swayed and postured. In the music there was the regular beat of small drums and a perpetual drone. The air seemed to be filled with the perfume of some bitter spice. Viola could fancy almost that she saw a smoldering campfire and heard far off the roar of some desolate wild beast. She let her long hair fall, raising the heavy strands of it in either hand as she moved slowly to the laden music. Slowly her body swayed with drowsy grace, slowly her satin shoes slid over the silver sand. The music ceased with a clash of cymbals. Viola rubbed her eyes. She fastened her hair up carefully again. Suddenly she looked up, almost imperiously. "Music! more music!" she cried. Once more the music came. This time it was a dance of caprice, pelting along over the violin-strings, leaping, laughing, wanton. Again an illusion seemed to cross her eyes. An old king was watching her, a king with the sordid history of the exhaustion of pleasure written on his flaccid face. A hook-nosed courtier by his side settled the ruffles at his wrists and mumbled, 'Ravissant! Quel malheur que la vieillesse!' It was a strange illusion. Faster and faster she sped to the music, stepping, spinning, pirouetting; the dance was light as thistle-down, fierce as fire, smooth as a rapid stream. The moment that the music ceased Viola became horribly afraid. She turned and fled away from the moonlit space, through the trees, down the dark alleys of the maze, not heeding in the least which turn she took, and yet she found herself soon at the outside iron gate. ("The Moon Slave")

in misty beauty never before seen, sweet sounds of a forest so serene, embracing and peaceful, so fresh and clean as birds songs are whispering their routine. those reflections gleam in the aquamarine... morning light glowing on your leaves so pristine, so angelic, so ageless and always evergreen, dance with me, my lady, my love, my queen

I push my thigh against his. “Well, thank God.” “Thank God what?” he asks. His hand slowly rubs up and down the place where my shoulder meets my arm. It makes me good shiver. “That I don’t have a neck brace. It’s hard to rock a neck brace, especially if we’re still going to that dance.” He leans in and kisses my nose. “If anyone could do it, you could.” I tilt my head so our lips meet. “Hormonal ones, I am right here. Me. The old lady otherwise known as your grandmother,” Betty says. “Sorry. He’s just irresistible,” I say, settling back against him. “Well, try to resist the irresistible,” Betty says knowingly as the truck bumps over a pothole.

Irony; we want to dance like robots and want robots to dance like us.

I should have danced more when I had no fear of falling.

I like to read, and I like dance. I don't dance, but I like to see other people dance.

I suddenly felt the way Cinderella might have felt if she hadn’t had that convenient midnight curfew: my feet were hurting, my hair was slipping free from its pins, and my makeup was getting all smudged from sweat. I was unbelievably tired, undeniably depressed, and I just wanted charming.

It [ballet] is a perfect medium for the expression of spiritual love.

It [ballet] projects a fragile kind of strength and a certain inflexible precision.

It does not matter how sweet you can sing a song of love. You must know how to dance along with it. You can't dance "salsa dance" on a "reggae song".

It is better to dance in the rain than to freeze in the storm.

I think I understand why Bollywood movies have songs," he said. "They understand that sometimes people feel so much they have to sing and dance about it.

It may take us years and years to find our true calling in life. But one fine day, we eventually do find it! Till then make merry, laugh, fight, dance and enjoy the craziness...

It is safer to dance in the dark than to trip in the light.

It may take us years and years to find our true calling in our life. But one fine day, we eventually do find it! Till then make merry, laugh, fight, dance and enjoy the craziness...

In the garden of humanity every baby is a fresh new flower who can smile, laugh, giggle, dance, love and sing with mother earth.

It was held that the six great arts – visual art (including architecture and photography), drama, dance, music, film and literature – form a family of related, if largely autonomous, practices: they all work through the aesthetic, all address the imagination, and all are concerned with the symbolic embodiment of human meaning.

It's my birth right to dance madly on my bestie marriage, after a bottle or so..!!

It takes an athlete to dance, but an artist to be a dancer

It takes two to tango”; one dictates the steps and the other executes them effectively. That is how a great show is made.

It was music first of all that brought us together. Without being professionals or virtuosos, we were all passionate lovers of music; but Serge dreamed of devoting himself entirely to the art. All the time he was studying law along with us, he took singing lessons with Cotogni, the famous baritone of the Italian Opera; while for musical theory, which he wanted to master completely so as to rival Moussorgsky and Tchaikovsky, he went to the very source and studied with Rimsky-Korsakov. However, our musical tastes were not always the same. The quality our group valued most was what the Germans call Stimmung, and besides this, the power of suggestion and dramatic force. The Bach of the Passions, Gluck, Schubert, Wagner and the Russian composers – Borodin in ‘Prince Igor’, Rimsky and, above all, Tchaikovsky, were our gods. Tchaikovsky’s ‘Queen of Spades’ had just been performed for the first time at the Opera of St Petersburg, and we were ecstatic about its Hoffmannesque element, notably the scene in the old Countess’s bedroom. We liked the composer’s famous Romances much less, finding them insipid and sometimes trivial. These Romances, however, were just what Diaghilev liked. What he valued most was broad melody, and in particular whatever gave a singer the chance to display the sensuous qualities of his voice. During the years of his apprenticeship he bore our criticisms and jokes with resignation, but as he learned more about music – and about the history of art in general – he gained in self-confidence and found reasons to justify his predilections. There came a time when not only did he dare to withstand our attacks but went on to refute our arguments fiercely.

I walk the sand alone, and feel it stirring as I roam, upon this breathing earth, where wave on wave begins new birth. I sense a grand facade, where colors paint the hand of God. And in remorseful pain, I dance the stones of bitter strain.

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.

I watched life and death unfold like a dance on the side of that road. My son was born with a bloodstained face and he died with blood from the accident covering that same face.

I watch the beautiful performance with an ache in my chest. Then, just when I can’t stand the sadness anymore, a dancer floats out from the side of the stage. A dancer in ragged clothes, filthy and half starved. He’s not even in ballet shoes. He’s just barefoot as he glides out to take his place in the dance. The other dancers turn to him, and it’s clear that he is one of them. One of the lost ones. By the look on their faces, they weren’t expecting him. This is not part of the practiced show. He must have seen them onstage and joined in. Amazingly, the dance continues without a missed beat. The newcomer simply glides into place, and the final dancer who should have danced solo with her missing partner dances with the newcomer. It is full of joy, and the ballerina actually laughs. Her voice is clear and high, and it lifts us all.

I wish to drown in my pain, alone, just like a moth dancing to its death in the flame!

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...

I wish I'd been able to introduce Maile and Ariel years ago. Even if they share nothing more than a single dance, that's worth it. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you shouldn't waste time not being with people who bring you joy.

I wish to live a life that causes my soul to dance inside my body.

Literature, although it stands apart by reason of the great destiny and general use of its medium in the affairs of men, is yet an art like other arts. Of these we may distinguish two great classes: those arts, like sculpture, painting, acting, which are representative, or as used to be said very clumsily, imitative; and those, like architecture, music, and the dance, which are self-sufficient, and merely presentative.

Look tonight at the stars. Let them overwhelm you in the postures of their bright dance. Face the vastness which they dot like silver bees, and sound with your own brain the mystery, hazarding at the inscrutable plan of things.

loose tendons; dance world's loss; performance art's gain