Dancing as an art, we may be sure, cannot die out, but will always be undergoing a rebirth. Not merely as an art, but also as a social custom, it perpetually emerges afresh from the soul of the people.

Here, where we reach the sphere of mathematics, we are among processes which seem to some the most inhuman of all human activities and the most remote from poetry. Yet it is here that the artist has the fullest scope of his imagination.

Men who know themselves are no longer fools. They stand on the threshold of the door of Wisdom.

The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw.

Dancing is the loftiest, the most moving, the most beautiful of the arts, because it is no mere translation or abstraction from life; it is life itself.

Of woman as a real human being, with sexual needs and sexual responsibilities, morality has often known nothing.

Jealousy, that dragon which slays love under the pretence of keeping it alive.