The body says what words cannot.

Nobody cares if you can't dance well.

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

What people in the world think of you is really none of your business.

No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction whatever at any time. There is only a strange, divine dissatisfaction, a blessed unrest that keeps us marching and makes us more alive than the others.

The body is your instrument in dance, but your art is outside that creature, the body.