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T Quotes

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All T Quotes

“The Dancer believes that his art has something to say which cannot be expressed in words or in any other way than by dancing... there are times when the simple dignity of movement can fulfill the function of a volume of words. There are movements which impinge upon the nerves with a strength that is incomparable, for movement has power to stir the senses and emotions, unique in itself. This is the dancer's justification for being, and his reason for searching further for deeper aspects of his art.”

“The dancer moaned and scrabbled at the cage mesh. She made guttural honks of frustration and excitement. The raspberry mouth opened to reveal the long black tongue and pointed pink teeth. It was a lot of noise and fuss, but nothing especially frightening. Nothing new, right up until the ghoul's cold pupils fixed on her - fixed, then suddenly transfigured. No mindless hunger. The badly painted lips peeled off those sharp pink teeth. "Amy," the ghoul panted. "Amy, I still dream about you.”

“The dancer's body is simply the luminous manifestation of the soul. The true dance is an expression of serenity; it is controlled by the profound rhythm of inner emotion. Emotion does not reach the moment of frenzy out of a spurt of action; it broods first, it sleeps like the life in the seed, and it unfolds with a gentle slowness. The Greeks understood the continuing beauty of a movement that mounted, that spread, that ended with a promise of rebirth.”

“The dancer, or dancers, must transform the stage for the audience as well as for themselves into an autonomous, complete, virtual realm, and all motions into a play of visible forces in unbroken, virtual time...Both space and time, as perceptible factors, disappear almost entirely in the dance illusion.”

“The dancing sickness took place during the latter part of the fifteenth century. Bubonic plague--the black death--decimated Europe near the end of the fourteenth. Whooping cough near the end of the seventeenth, and the first known outbreaks of influenza near the end of the nineteenth. We've become so used to the idea of the flu--it seems almost like the common cold to us, doesn't it?--that no one but the historians seem to know that a hundred years ago it didn't exist.”

“The dandelion, a wild yellow blossom, a splash of pure gold, holds a story untold. It is a sun in the grass, holding joy and youth, in full bloom, opening in cracks. Then comes the time for change, and it becomes the white seedhead, the moon, a moment of ripeness and reflection. Then the dandelion breaks to be windblown seeds, the stars scattered across the sky. This is the story of ultimate transformation, where seeds break loose to begin their own journeys anew elsewhere. From seed to a flower and seed again.”

“The Dandelion Co-op carried locally grown vegetables, and almond milk, and nuts and spices in bulk. Sunshine's parents had hooked me on natural food. Cassie and Sam had a plump little garden back behind the cabin, in the only spot that got much sun. They made coconut milk ice cream, and cauliflower fried in olive oil, and pesto pizzas, and on and on.”

“the dandy can only play a part by setting himself up in opposition. He can only be sure of his own existence by finding it in the expression of others’ faces. Other people are his mirror. A mirror that quickly becomes clouded, it is true, since human capacity for attention is limited. It must be ceaselessly stimulated, spurred on by provocation. The dandy, therefore, is always compelled to astonish. Singularity is his vocation, excess his way to perfection. Perpetually incomplete, always on the fringe of things, he compels others to create him, while denying their values. He plays at life because he is unable to live it. He plays at it until he dies, except for the moments when he is alone and without a mirror. For the dandy, to be alone is not to exist. The romantics talked so grandly about solitude only because it was their real horror, the one thing they could not bear.”

“The Dandy is the highest form of existence attainable by the human form. His life is exclusively dedicated to dressing exquisitely, parading about the fashionable boroughs of splendid cities and and holding forth at his club, where he dispenses witticism as readily as the vulgaroisie utters its banal platitudes. The only species of 'work' this singular Chap might engage in would consist of discussing buttonhole stitching with his tailor and performing his ablutions until the morning has been well aired enough for him to step into it.”

“The Danes, considered to be among the happiest people in the world, have enjoyed hygge for hundreds of years. Denmark's high standard of living, decent healthcare, gender equality, accessible education and equitable distribution of wealth all contribute to the measurable happiness of the Danish people. But a determined pursuit of happiness doesn't necessarily lead to wellbeing. At the heart of Danish life, and at the core of hygge, is a deeper stability of contentment.”

“The danger (where there is any) from armed citizens, is only to the *government*, not to *society*; and as long as they have nothing to revenge in the government (which they cannot have while it is in their own hands) there are many advantages in their being accustomed to the use of arms, and no possible disadvantage.”

“The danger came from the white dragon. This was Father, some kind of partner to the dragon who cared. The newly hatched dragonet could hardly look at him without seeing a spiral of confusing flashes: pain, fury, screaming dragons, and blood, everywhere, blood. This white dragon had done something terrible that haunted him, and he might do worse someday. Father’s mind had patches of damp, rotten vileness all over it.”