The Butcher With His Bloody Apron Incites

The Real American Type Can Never Be A Ballet Dancer. The Legs Are Too Long, The Body Too Supple And The Spirit Too Free For This School Of Affected Grace And Toe Walking.

The Dance - It Is The Rhythm Of All That Dies In Order To Live Again; It Is The Eternal Rising Of The Sun.

The Movement Of The Waves, Of Winds, Of The Earth Is Ever In The Same Lasting Harmony. We Do Not Stand On The Beach And Inquire Of The Ocean What Was Its Movement Of The Past And What Will Be Its Movement Of The Future. We Realize That The Movement Peculiar To Its Nature Is Eternal To Its Nature. The Dancer Of The Future Will Be One Whose Body And Soul Have Grown So Harmoniously Together That The Natural Language Of That Soul Will Have Become The Movement Of The Body.

My First Idea Of Movement, Of The Dance, Certainly Came From The Rhythm Of The Wave.

The Dancer Will Not Belong To A Nation But To All Humanity.