Pity is a corroding thing.
Every dance is a kind of fever chart, a graph of the heart.
Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.
'Age' is the acceptance of a term of years. But maturity is the glory of years.
Dancing appears glamorous, easy, delightful. But the path to paradise of the achievement is not easier than any other. There is fatigue so great that the body cries, even in its sleep. There are times of complete frustration, there are daily small deaths.
We are all of us, unique - each a unique pattern of creativity and if we do not fulfill it, it is lost for all time.