Dance is the hidden langauge of the soul, of the body.

Some men have thousands of reasons why they cannot do what they want to, when all they need is one reason why they can.

Dancing is a very living art. It is essentially of the moment, although a very old art. A dancer's art is lived while he is dancing. Nothing is left of his art except the pictures and the memories--when his dancing days are over.

I don't think in art there is ever a precedent; each moment is a new one and terrifying and threatening and bursting with hope.

Movement never lies. It is a barometer telling the state of the soul's weather to all who can read it.

One can always lament, you know — but to laugh in the face of life, that's very hard. And for me the great tragedian should also be a great comedian.

The next time you look into the mirror, just look at the way the ears rest next to the head; look at the way the hairline grows; think of all the little bones in your wrist. It is a miracle. And the dance is a celebration of that miracle.