Until quite recently dance in America was the ragged Cinderella of the arts . . .

Letters are expectation packaged in an envelope.

the metabolism of a consumer society requires it continually to eat and excrete, every day throwing itself away in plastic bags.

Ours was the Togetherness Generation. We equated togetherness with salvation, and expected so much from it that it was bound to let us down. Companionship, security, lifelong physical and spiritual and emotional warmth - all were to be had for the twist of a ring and the breathing of a vow. And to be had no other way.

Until quite recently dance in America was the ragged Cinderella of the arts . . .

The paradox of Reality is that no image is as compelling as the one which exists only in the mind's eye.

Ballet's image of perfection is fashioned amid a milieu of wracked bodies, fevered imaginations, Balkan intrigue and sulfurous hatreds where anything is likely, and dancers know it.