I don’t care if you live by the motto: let the chips fall where they may, but don’t you dare spill the salsa. Not unless you’re holding it while we’re enjoying romance in motion known as salsa dancing.

My dance teacher said "you are not a real dancer until your toes bleed from pointing all day" so I did just that. At that time when I went back to her she said "bravo. You have learned to live with pain. You are a real dancer.

I'm not ashamed of heroic ambitions. If man and woman can only dance upon this earth for a few countable turns of the sun... let each of us be an Artemis, Odysseus, or Zeus... Aphrodite to the extent of the will of each one.

In answer to a question you asked me not a long ago, a question I didn’t answer at the time…it is worth it. Love is a perilous dance too, you see. And if we stop dancing, we’ll die.Don’t ever stop dancing.

Sleep my little baby-ohSleep until you wakenWhen you wake you'll see the worldIf I'm not mistaken...Kiss a loverDance a measure,Find your nameAnd buried treasure...Face your lifeIts pain, Its pleasure,Leave no path untaken.

To be creative means to be in love with life. You can be creative only if you love life enough that you want to enhance its beauty, you want to bring a little more music to it, a little more poetry to it, a little more dance to it.

Don't you agree? Swordplay is a dance of sorts, an understanding of the logical, most sophisticated next step. Except that in a fight, one must take the unexpected step. In dance it is all about taking the right, expected step.

I walk the sand alone,and feel it stirring as I roam,upon this breathing earth,where wave on wave begins new birth.I sense a grand facade,where colors paint the hand of God.And in remorseful pain,I dance the stones of bitter strain.

Then, slowly, like the sunrise peeking over the horizon, she smiled.She snapped the box closed.She didn’t scream. She didn’t run. She didn’t faint.There might have been a little crying.But mostly… she danced.

Sabine used to maintain that preparation for a dance is comparable to what goes on in the back room of a butcher's shop: the meat for consumption is sliced and dressed and put in nice little paper packages, ready for the kitchen.

Think of the great poetry, the music and dance and ritual that spring forth from our aspiring to a life beyond death. Maybe these things are justification enough for our hopes and dreams, although I wouldn't say that to a dying man.

You make me so happy I could frown. Let us dance like two rocking chairs at a KISS concert, and let us kiss like two people named Sam Asmas who’ve just discovered the meaning of the word palindrome, as well as the meaning of life.

Do you dance? Or are you strictly a prop-up-the-wall-with-a-beer kind of guy?""I dance. But I don't shag."She laughed. "I think we've just established that you do"."Not Austin Powers shagging. It's A Carolina thing. A dance.

It was so much more. You allowed your feelings to spill onto the stage in a way everyone in that room could relate to. Angela inspired it, perhaps, but the specifics you chose made a universal statement. That is the art of choreography.

I had a dream about you. You were a burlesque dancer in a burlap sack, and I was a first-time kidnapper. I wanted to be rich in dance moves, and I thought the best way to achieve it would be to extort it from your talented family.