Dancers are the messengers of the gods.

There is fatigue so great that the body cries, even in its sleep.

Dance is a song of the body. Either of joy or pain.

You see, when weaving a blanket, an Indian woman leaves a flaw in the weaving of that blanket to let the soul out.

I believe that we learn by practice.

There is a vitality, a life force, an energy, a quickening that is translated through you into action, and because there is only one of you in all of time, this expression is unique.

The body says what words cannot.