Dancing is not getting up painlessly like a speck of dust blown around in the wind.
Dancing is when you rise above both worlds, tearing your heart to pieces, and giving up your soul.
Dance where you can break yourself to pieces and totally abandon your worldly passions.
Real men dance and whirl on to the battlefield; they dance in their own blood.
When they give themselves up, they clap their hands;
When they leave behind the imperfections of the self, they dance.
Their minstrels play music from within; and whole oceans of passion foam on the crest of the waves.