Best 1364 quotes in «dancing quotes» category

The laws of physics say if there’s a party, Isla will eventually end up dancing on a table.

The music started up. Mehana called out the verse, and Kate glided into the first kaholo, losing her self in the dance.

The piano is kind of like a dance floor for our thoughts you know? A very woody foundation so that we can really focus on the poetry.

The print was an old one made from a negative taken in the 1960’s of her parents in Sydney Mines, dancing with thrilled, excited expressions on their faces, in front of a classic car that had been a wedding gift at the time. Her mother’s hair, red back then, was held back by a blue handkerchief, and she was dressed in a billowing skirt and white blouse. Her father’s denim jeans and faded t-shirt were streaked with coal dust as he held her hands and spun her around in the front yard of their old clapboard house, yellow grass under their feet and a cobalt-blue sky with white clouds drifting above. Mandy could almost feel the late summer breeze as she gazed deeply into the print, watching the flamboyant colors come to life. She hung it up to dry on two wooden clothespins hanging from a string above her.

There is a moment when dancing when the body defies gravity. This is the moment to strive for.

The real rain dance is when the rain dances.

There isn’t a dance that can compare to the gaiety, the timing and cohesiveness of hand maneuvers, the provoca-tive movements in unison of an upbeat salsa dance. The sweating, the writhing bodies, the facial expressions; the start of a moderate sensual beat climaxing in the middle to a crescendo and then ending with a slower consummation is like making love in its most exquisite form.

There is no real bravery in getting paid to save someone's life. However, there is a large amount of bravery in a nurse break dancing at the hospital's Christmas party.

They had taken to the movement unlike anything he had ever seen, and he thought that should this venture of the Jews prove successful, the new state would be filled with dancers and musicians, but especially dancers, for dancing like nothing else says: I am still alive.

There’s not enough dancing in the world. And the fact that there are no daytime discos right now is indicative of the trouble we’re in as a society.

There was dancing to wear your feet down, and there were beautiful boys and girls, and kisses were cheaper than wine but the wine was sweet and the fruit sweeter. And you could still hear the music in your head.

There were bickerings, outright fights, screaming tantrums, but Ted's vision of the Greater Denishawn had come true.

The thing I've never understood about dancing till now is that it only looks stupid when you're on the outside, watching other people do it. When you're part of the crowd, moving along with everyone else, I can't imagine anything else being quite as much fun.

There was an alchemy in this noise and exultation: spellbound in the sorcery of these songs, I became we, me became us. For there was an empowerment in this empathy, a catharsis in this energy, as if each man gathered the bare bones of his personal circumstances and was banging a rhythm out of them, a rhythm that sang with the ferocious energy of survival, a heartbeat that said they weren’t beat. Because singing was breathing and dancing was moving, and breathing and moving were for the quick and not the dead. And suddenly, the air was full of wet — damp with breath and sweat. Face were dripping, arms were flailing, kids were kissing, Pas were cussing, and Mas were laughing, and all were swaying in a way that had something to do with the homebrew, something to do with the music, with the way things are, with the way they should be, and the way they have always been.

We are not from here, my dear. So: Let the flames take over our bodies, ‘cause I wanna merely burn with you. And we can dance until we become ashes, but don’t you dare leave me when we become pointless dust. Because this is when we can finally blow away with the wind, back to that place where love was once real...

This is a beautiful morning; the sun is rising with a smiling face. Everything around me is alive and smiling. Everything is whispering in my ear to enjoy every moment and enjoy the morning. My heart is dancing with you, with morning light.

This is a day of celebration! Today, we are divorcing the past and marrying the present. Dance, and you will find God in every room. Today, we are divorcing resentment and marrying forgiveness. Sing, and God will find you in every tune. Today, we are divorcing indifference and marrying love. Drink, and play that tambourine against your thighs. We have so much celebrating to do!

This isn't real dancing," Thomas shouted to Lynx in disappointment. "They're just jumping around like the floor is too hot, and waving their arms like they're under attack by biting insects.

This may not be much, but it is something. Tomorrow we die; but at least we danced in silver shoes.

Time goes by at the speed of life Slower than a slow dance on a hot summer night Faster than the skin breaks on the edge of a knife And we just go on at the speed of life

Ultimately, wasn’t dance a whispered question? A story told through the position of a foot, the tilt of a head, the touch of a hand, the brush of an eye. A rite of passage. A claiming.

We all can dance," he said, "when we find music that we love.

We can all dance when we find music that we love.

We danced in the handkerchief-big space between the speak-easy tables, in which stood the plates of half-eaten spaghetti or chicken bones and the bottles of Dago red. For about five minutes the dancing had some value in itself, then it became very much like acting out some complicated and portentous business in a dream which seems to have a meaning but whose meaning you can't figure out. Then the music was over, and stopping dancing was like waking up from the dream, being glad to wake up and escape and yet distressed because now you won't ever know what it had been all about.

We dance. Sweet, downcast, through-the-lashes-glances bely every beating she got at thirteen, every lash of the tongue from her dad at fourteen, every heroin high that let her out for awhile, every hour and day she had to be tough. She is so natural and soft. Her shoulders are down, hips loose and swinging as we close together. I swear I'm growing chest hair just looking at her. I've been a boy in public before, but I've never seen her like this. That's it exactly; I haven't seen her at all, except in glimpses, in half-confessional role-play sex. And here she is - pressed tight against my chest, hips grinding against my crotch to the bass bump of the music. Her thigh along mine is electric heaven. Two drag queens cannot decide whether we are breeders or in drag. I stroke my mascara-made mustache at them - but none of it matters with hands in suede and the way she smiles.

To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautiful, more powerful.

To most human beings, wind is an irritation. To most trees, wind is a song.

Vous craignez les livres comme certaines bourgades ont craint les violons. Laissez lire, et laissez danser; ces deux amusements ne feront jamais de mal au monde.

We act as a conduit for the observers’ unexpressed desires, the silent appreciation they may contain for anything; a lover, a river, a building even

We keep drifting in time but do not pause to even think and reflect for a while. Life is truly lived in the every day moments. When we take out time for our passion. It may be drawing and sketching; singing and playing music; traveling and photography; or reading and writing.

We pass a woman shaking her head and slapping at the steering wheel with her hands. Only after we’ve passed her do I figure out that she was probably dancing to music.

We may not stay quick, If we are weak or sage, but a lot can squeak As we start to age.

We owe it to the dead to dance on their graves.

We sing because we can't speak anymore. Dance is an extension of that - we dance because we can't speak anymore.

What are you thinking about?” he asked, a curious look on his face. “What?” I had been aware of the fact I was staring at him, but for some silly reason I didn't think he would notice. “Um, well...I was just asking myself why it is that everyone here is staring at us.” It was true. As I said it, I noticed that everyone dancing around us, and even some people eating at their tables, were sneaking glances over at us. He glanced around to see what I was talking about. “I think I can explain that.” “Oh yeah?” “Yeah.” He returned his gaze to mine. “Look around, Lex. Not one person in this entire restaurant is younger than our parents.” “So?” “So, we are reminding them of what it was like to be young and in love. They think it's sweet, and that's why they're looking at us.

What a magical place," she whispered in an awed voice. "I expect a unicorn or fairies to appear." "What would the fairies be doing?" Shermont asked. "Waltzing with the butterflies," she answered before thinking.

What, we may well ask, is there left to live for? Why get out of bed? For this dreary round of amusing insincerity? This filthy bourgeois society that the Aristotelians have foisted upon us? No, we may still choose to live like gods, like poets. Which brings us down to dancing. Yes,” he said, turning to Malone, “that is all that’s left when love has gone.

What’s your rank of choice?” Juliet started, nearly spilling her cup of lemonade. “Pardon?” Drake gestured to all the other men in the room. “Every rank from a duke down to a second son who became a vicar is available for your choosing. Any rank strike your fancy?” “I believe you’re incorrect,” she said, looking over all the men in the room. “I see one second son-vicar, one baron―” she turned to him―“one viscount, two earls, and one duke. But alas, no marquis.” His brown eyes lit with mischief. “I’d say that I stand corrected, but I do not. There is a marquis on the premises. If you’d like to dance with him, I’ll see if a servant can fetch him from the nursery.

What is life? Life is living in this moment, experiencing and experimenting but experience isn’t life. Life is reflecting and meditating but reflection isn’t life. Life is helping and guiding but philanthropy isn’t life. Life is eating and drinking but food isn’t life. Life is reading and dancing but art isn’t life. Life is kissing and pleasuring but sex isn’t life. Life is winning and losing but competition isn’t life. Life is loving and caring but love isn’t life. Life is birthing and nurturing but children aren’t life. Life is letting go and surrendering but death isn’t life. Life is all these things but all these things aren’t life. Life is always more.

When I was 14-15 There was nothing to my life but dancing and sex I'd go to night clubs and dance Then I'd meet someone and have sex it was Fine and easy nothing to do BUT Think with my body like a bird I Thought I was Free TrAcey Emin

When a Wanderess has been caged, or perched with her wings clipped, She lives like a Stoic, She lives most heroic, smiling with ruby, moistened lips once her cup of Death is welcome sipped.

When I really feel like dancing, I want someone who knows how to lead.

When I see a dancing butterfly, When I see a half blooming flower, Their eager wish to make this world happy, My mind dances with joy, My soul emerges in happiness.

When no possessions keep us, when no countries contain us, and no time detains us, man becomes a heroic wanderer, and woman, a wanderess.

When the melody plays, footsteps move, heart sings and spirit begin to dance.

When the dancing breeze around the night guarding the hooting owl’s emotion, I treasure my longing in the melted silence of our spiritual devotion forever glared (even in the dark) Only for you From the poem- Only for You

When we mediate while moving, we are able to connect with varied and deep parts of ourselves. We are able to integrate new energies into our bodies through movements and focus.

When the Root and Branch were young, when the Rose still grew unplucked upon the tree; when all our lands were new and green and we danced without care, then, we were immortal... We left those lands for the world where time dwells, dancing, that we might see the passage of the sun and the growing of the world. Here we may die, and where we can fall, and here King ___ has stopped his dancing.

Why people wanted to dance whenever it got dark was beyond him. Somehow, the two seemed to go together, like bees and flowers, or flies and dung. Darkness and dancing.

When you dance, your whole body dances, your skin and bones, your soul, The tips of your fingers and the roots of your hair. When you stop dancing you stop living.