A toe shoe is as eccentric as the ballerina who wears it: their marriage is a commitment.

To live and to laugh require a reason. But dancing is so close to one's guts that it has no reason and yet it needs none; it's physical, and as a source of good cheer it is end endless.

Dancing may not be the perfect substitute for love, human love, but it certainly requires all the time and thought and energy that could otherwise be dedicated to love.

A brand-new pair of toe shoes presents itself to us as an enemy with a will of its own that must be tamed.

We live only to dance. If living were not an essential prerequisite, we would abstain.

The "I love you"s are exchanged excessively under our roof. Cancer teaches you how important and critical that is.

In English, my name means hope. In Spanish, it means too many letters. It means sadness. It means waiting. It is like the number nine, a muddy color.

Thought is barred in this City of Dreadful Joy and conversation is unknown.

Everybody is unique. Compare not yourself with anybody else lest you spoil God's curriculum.

Oh, and welcome to the Three.

Sometimes sushi is just superb, and other times there's nothing like a great big steak. It depends where your taste buds are at the time.

Fulfillment has nothing to do with circumstances.

While it will be desirable to achieve planned results, it will be even more important to avoid unplanned disasters.

Grief and memory go together. After someone dies, that's what you're left with. And the memories are so slippery yet so rich.

You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.