I Danced With Passion To Spite The

In Saying My Prayers, I Discovered The Voice Of An Innermost Self, The Raw Nerve Of My Identity.

I Know My Body. What Happened Is That I Got So Caught Up In The Applause I Forgot How I Should Dance. All My Life I've Been What Others Wanted - In Dancing And In Life. Now I'm Doing It My Way.

I Embarked On A Risky Course Of Plastic Surgery And Silicone Injections, Major Dental Realignments And Gruesome Medical Procedures. I Pray That Young Dancers, Those Who Imitate Me At Their Peril, Will Avoid This Blind Alley. It Is More Than A Dead End; It Is A Dead Beginning.

As Soon As You Become Afraid To Make A Fool Of Yourself, You're In Trouble. I Decided I May As Well Just See If I Can Live With Myself Making Millions Of Mistakes And Learn Something From It.

Classical Virtuosity Is More Than Technique, Line, Proportion, And Balance. It Is As If The Performer And Spectator Come Together To Hold In Their Hands A Bird With A Broken Wing. The Creature Can Be Felt To Stir, To Struggle For Freedom. Its Life Responds To Human Warmth; Its Wing Might Brush Your Check As It Flies Away.