Practice is a means of inviting the perfection desired.

We learn by practice. Whether it means to learn to dance by practicing dancing or to learn to live by practicing living, the principles are the same. One becomes in some area an athlete of God.

It takes ten years, usually, to make a dancer. It takes ten years of handling the instrument, handling the material with which you are dealing, for you to know it completely.

Stand up! Keep your backs straight! Remember that this is where the wings grow.

In a dancer, there is a reverence for such forgotten things as the miracle of the small beautiful bones and their delicate strength.

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

A dancer, more than any other human being, dies two deaths: the first, the physical when the powerfully trained body will no longer respond as you would wish. After all, I choreographed for myself. I never choreographed what I could not do. I changed steps in Medea and other ballets to accommodate the change. But I knew. And it haunted me. I only wanted to dance.