Quotes About Movement

Movement" means great footwork coupled with quick speed, balance, dexterity

Surrealism: An archaic term. Formerly an art movement. No longer distinguishable from everyday life.

I don't feel restless, I just like to travel.

when your opponent was at the net, it was often best to slam the ball right at their gut because he or she wouldn't know which way to move. You slow down their reaction time.

She stood fluidly and semiglided out of the room. Despite her size, Mabel moved with the unlabored grace of a natural athlete. Horace too moved like that, blending bulk with finesse in an almost poetic way. She was gone for less than a minute, and when she returned, she handed him a photograph. Myron looked down. A

Folks were doin' a lot of runnin' that night

We are making a step. It's just a baby step but it's a step.

it's just a baby-step, but it's a step.

And I thought to myself, well, we're making a step - it's just a baby-step, but it's a step

It is only in the dance between chaos and order that life progresses.

Time weighs down on you like an old, ambiguous dream. You keep on moving, trying to sleep through it. But even if you go to the ends of the earth, you won't be able to escape it. Still, you have to go there- to the edge of the world. There's something you can't do unless you get there.

Time moves in it special way in the middle of the night.

Dance, said the Sheep Man. Yougottadance. Aslongasthemusicplays. Yougotta dance. Don'teventhinkwhy. Starttothink, yourfeetstop. Yourfeetstop, wegetstuck. Wegetstuck, you'restuck. Sodon'tpayanymind, nomatterhowdumb. Yougottakeepthestep. Yougottalimberup. Yougottaloosenwhatyoubolteddown. Yougottauseallyougot. Weknowyou're tired, tiredandscared. Happenstoeveryone, okay? Justdon'tletyourfeetstop.

I move, therefore I am.

As long as I kept my body moving I could forget about the emptiness inside.

It's true though: time moves in its own special way in the middle of the night, the bartender says, loudly striking a book match and lighting a cigarette. You can't fight it.

let the wind change direction a little bit, and their cries turned to whispers.

That sometimes in life we can't grasp the boundary between reality and unreality. Than boundary always seems to be shifting. As if the border between countries shifts from one day to the next depending on their mood. We need to pay close attention to that movement otherwise we won't know which side we're on.

We keep moving. And as we do, the things around us, well, they disappear.

Even at a time like this, the street is bright enough and filled with people coming and going—people with places to go and people with no place to go; people with a purpose and people with no purpose; people trying to hold time back and people trying to urge it forward.

When he woke up the next day, the world was still there, and things were already moving forward, like the great karmic wheel of Indian mythology that kills every living thing in its path.

And in the movement of the sun, I felt something I hardly know how to name: some huge, cosmic love. 

Where there's an entrance, there's got to be an exit. Most things work that way.

You must not let fatigue set in, she warns. That is what my mother said. Let your body work until it is spent, but keep your mind for yourself. Good advice. To tell the truth, I do not know this thing called 'mind', what it does or how to use it. It is only a word I have heard. The mind is nothing you use, I say. The mind is just there. It is like the wind. You simply feel its movements.