I know the deep night ballet and its seasons best This order is all composed of movement and change, and although it is life, not art, we may fancifully call it the art form of the city and liken it to the dance—not to a simple-minded precision dance with everyone kicking up at the same time, twirling in unison and bowing off en masse, but to an intricate ballet in which the individual dancers and ensembles all have distinctive parts which miraculously reinforce each other and compose an orderly whole. The ballet of the good city sidewalk never repeats itself from place to place, and in any one place is always replete with new improvisations. Jane Jacobs, The Death and Life of Great American Cities The stoop is a space of spectatorship danceorder
The senses of form and tone Man painted and danced long before he learned to write and construct. The senses of form and tone are his primordial heritage. Sibyl Moholy-Nagy, Pedagogical Sketchbook artformdance
His ear in his toes A Quote by Friedrich Nietzsche The dancer has his ear in his toes. The Eyes of the Skin: Architecture and the Senses dance
Kokoro A Novel by Natsume Sōseki www.penguinrandomhouse.com Vibrations in the airThat delicate and complex instrumentThe great soundless whirl of darknessUnderfootNot them he despised+2 More zenabsurdity
Vibrations in the air Words are not just vibrations in the air, they work more powerfully than that, and on more powerful objects. words
That delicate and complex instrument Could that delicate and complex instrument that lies in the human breast ever really produce a reading that was absolutely clear and truthful, like a clock’s hands pointing to numbers on its dial? lovetruth
The great soundless whirl of darkness I could not know that even then the little light was being drawn irresistibly into the great soundless whirl of darkness and that I was watching a light that was destined soon to blink out and disappear. lightdarknessmelancholy
Underfoot The memory of having sat at someone’s feet will later make you want to trample him underfoot.
Not them he despised For all his unresponsiveness to others’ affection, I now see, it was not them he despised but himself. melancholy
Reading I suppose it’s because I believe you don’t really become a finer person just by reading lots of books. learningcommonplace
A circle of beads If you count off a circle of beads, you never reach an end. At what point, and with what feelings, would his fingers cease to move those beads? This may be a silly question, but it haunts me. ending