Best 1204 quotes in «dance quotes» category

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 a sordid scene. Philip leaned over the rail, staring down, and he ceased to hear the music. They danced furiously. They danced round the room, slowly, talking very little, with all their attention given to the dance. The room was hot, and their faces shone with sweat. It seemed to Philip that they had thrown off the guard which people wear on their expression, the homage to convention, and he saw them now as they really were. In that moment of abandon they were strangely animal: some were foxy and some were wolflike; and others had the long, foolish face of sheep. Their skins were sallow from the unhealthy life the led and the poor food they ate. Their features were blunted by mean interests, and their little eyes were shifty and cunning. There was nothing of nobility in their bearing, and you felt that for all of them life was a long succession of petty concerns and sordid thoughts. The air was heavy with the musty smell of humanity. But they danced furiously as though impelled by some strange power within them, and it seemed to Philip that they were driven forward by a rage for enjoyment. They were seeking desperately to escape from a world of horror. The desire for pleasure which Cronshaw said was the only motive of human action urged them blindly on, and the very vehemence of the desire seemed to rob it of all pleasure. The were hurried on by a great wind, helplessly, they knew not why and they knew not whither. Fate seemed to tower above them, and they danced as though everlasting darkness were beneath their feet. Their silence was vaguely alarming. It was as if life terrified them and robbed them of power of speech so that the shriek which was in their hearts died at their throats. Their eyes were haggard and grim; and notwithstanding the beastly lust that disfigured them, and the meanness of their faces, and the cruelty, notwithstanding the stupidness which was the worst of all, the anguish of those fixed eyes made all that crowd terrible and pathetic. Philip loathed them, and yet his heart ached with the infinite pity which filled him. He took his coat from the cloak-room and went out into the bitter coldness of the night.

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 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 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 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 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.

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

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

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.

Love is a dance.

Love is a Dance set on the stage of Forgiveness and Grace.

Love is prayerfulness groping toward godliness. Love is poetry born out of the sheer joy of being. Love is song, dance, celebration: a song of gratitude, a dance of thankfulness, celebration for no reason at all, for this tremendous gift that goes on showering on us, for this whole universe, from the dust to the divine.

Love is stillness quaked only by the leaves' cascading pirouettes.

Love is the alpha and omega and He swoops us up into every letter of His being and invites us to participate in the dance of His divinity.

Love songs or poetry? Ambrose: Love songs–you get the best of both, poetry set to music. And you can't dance to poetry.

Love loves anarchy. It loves to wreak havoc. It loves to dance atop the ruins.

Make sure you date someone who always makes you want to dance, with or without music.

March out of the common line; make bold steps ahead and dance to the tune of a sweeter, better and nicer tone of your own music. March out of the tiny box!

Moving my body ignites my bliss. I say yes to movement!

May I see your dance card?” “Don’t you believe me?” She presented it to him with a flourish. He ran his fingers down the list of names. “Hmm . . . Waterburn? Bastard. D’Andre. Definitely a worthless bastard. Lord Camber, a thoroughgoing bastard. Lord Michaelson? Bastard. Peter Cheswick? Bast—” She snatched it from him, laughing. “I wouldn’t dance a waltz with you, anyway, Lord Dryden.” “No?” “You might accidentally lock eyes with Lisbeth Redmond, stumble, and fling me across the room to avoid crushing my feet.

Most dancers I know, especially the talented and successful ones, seem to possess [my dog's] knack for living moment to moment. You see, their idea of time is related to those infinitely short moments when they are onstage being their superselves.

Move your body.

Music does not need language of words for it has movements of dance to do its translation.

Music dissipates every misery.

Music is the most abstract of the arts; dance, the most concrete.

My advice to you is to dance while you still can.

Music gives strength to the spirit.

Music was not so very different from mathematics. It was all just patterns and sequences. The only difference was that they hung in the air instead of on a piece of paper. Dancing was a grand equation. One side was sound, the other movement. The dancer's job was to make them equal.

My advice for life: dance and sing your song while the party is still on.

My feet were keeping in time with the music, but my heart was pounding out a different rhythm altogether.

My nerves did a jitter dance,

Nature [provides] with the excitement of the dance in the interest of the reproduction of the species.

Nature is always inviting you to see her beauty and power. She is attracting you with her dance, song, and love.

Nature paces its change in gradual steps, and in this time of renewal, I danced in sync to the rhythm of life.

No one is born beneath this dance. This dance gives birth to you.

Never had she danced so beautifully; the sharp knives cut her feet, but she did not feel it, for the pain in her heart was far greater.

Never too tired to DANCE... It's my PASSION. It's my LIFE.

No me queda más remedio que ser paciente, deshacer los nudos y volver a conectar cada hilo. Recomponer la situación. ¿Por dónde empiezo? No encuentro el punto de partida. Estoy anclado al pie de un alto muro. La pared que me rodea es resbaladiza como la superficie de un espejo. No hay nada a lo que echar mano. Nada a lo que agarrarse. Estoy perdido

No one can dance better than his own shadow and no shadow can dance better than its own owner!

Nothing is ever as simple as it seems. At the edge of perception, weird things dance and howl.

O mică trupă de țărani napolitani își repetau pașii de dans în capătul capelei, unii rotindu-și brațele deasupra capetelor, alții legănându-și coșurile cu violete de hârtie și făcând reverențe.

Nothing worse than someone who goes to the dance, is excited to dance, dances all night, and then complains all the next day about his feet being sore.

Nurture the inside burn, for that is the key to your bliss, Bestow ecstasy to the neighbouring, get drunk in your freedom. Waltz away to life’s symphony, Breathe Free.