Dancers Are The Messengers Of

I'm Asked So Often Whether I Believe In Life After Death. I Do Believe In The Sanctity Of Life, The Continuity Of Life And Of Energy. I Know The Anonymity Of Death Has No Appeal For Me. It Is The Now That I Must Face And Want To Face.

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.

Dancers Today Can Do Anything; The Technique Is Phenomenal. The Passion And The Meaning To Their Movement Can Be Another Thing.

I Am Absorbed In The Magic Of Movement And Light. Movement Never Lies. It Is The Magic Of What I Call The Outer Space Of The Imagination.

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.