Fusion Dance Quotes

We live in a world of unimaginable surprises - from the fusion energy that lights the sun to the genetic and evolutionary consequences of this light’s dancing for eons upon the earth - and yet paradise conforms to our most superficial concerns with all the fidelity of a Caribbean cruise. This is wondrously strange. If one didn't know better, one would think that man, in his fear of losing all that he loves, had created heaven, along with its gatekeeper God, in his own image.

But any idiot can see you two are gaga for one another.” As in Lady Gaga? Because I do enjoy riding Wade’s disco stick and playing our own version of poker face. And even though I’m terrified we’ll wind up having a bad romance, leaving me to just dance while watching Wade ride off into the sunset with Alejandro as the paparazzi followed in a frenzy, I can’t seem to stop myself from loving him. I shook the nonsense out of my head.

Before Prax had gotten married, he’d seen a dance performance based on neo-Taoist traditions. For the first hour, it had been utterly boring, and then after that, the small movements of arms and legs and torso, shifting together, bending, and falling away, had been entrancing. The Rocinante slid into place beside an extending airlock port with the same beauty Prax had seen in that dance, but made more powerful by the knowledge that instead of skin and muscles, this was tons of high-tensile steel and live fusion reactors.

She took the detonator from my hand without delay and blew the thermal charge. The door exploded inwards and she drew two fusion pistols with the casual grace of ballroom dancing. I chuckled at her back. Despite it all. It was damn good to see her again. Death incarnate included.

Holistic moving therapy is a combination of various movement based bodywork techniques such as movement therapy, manual therapy, Pilates and Belly dance classes.

The cinematic experience is a recreation of this ancient practice of theatrical renewal and bonding in modern terms, except that the flames of the stone-age campfire have been replaced by the shifting images that are telling the story itself. Images that dance the same way every time the film is projected, but which kindle different dreams in the mind of each beholder. It is a fusion of the permanency of literature with the spontaneity of theater.

In the fusion of Akira's brightness and Sunyata's emptiness, we discover a universe where every moment is a convergence of infinite possibilities of quantum consciousness.

A subtle twist in the corridors of perception, I am not what the mirror reflects or the thoughts insist. Neither my own echo, nor the orders of others, I am a shadow of thoughts, the dance is yet to come. In the theater of the mind, perceptions come together, I am not what I claim to be or your judgments define me. A fleeting mirage, a game of illusion, I am shaped by reflections, a profound fusion. I am not my own thinker, nor a projection of your mind, I am a silent echo, a complex reflection. In a kaleidoscope of perspectives, I find, I am what I see in your eyes, connected. Yet beneath this mask, one truth stands clear, I am more than the whispers others can hear. Beyond the veils of grandeur of perception, I am the essence of myself, the splendor of the soul.

The cinematic experience is a recreation of this ancient practice of theatrical renewal and bonding in modern terms, except that the flames of the stone-age campfire have been replaced by the shifting images that are telling the story itself. Images that dance the same way every time the film is projected, but which kindle different dreams in the mind of each beholder. It is a fusion of the permanency of literature with the spontaneity of theater.

DIDN’T COME GET me until two in the morning, and she was still singing—in French.” Lydia yawned hugely, then sang, “Ne me quitte pas, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah. What am I going to do? Ben won’t let me into his room every night, no matter what Jeffrey says.” “Sleep in my room from now on,” said Alice. “You can have either the top or bottom bunk.” “Really?” What a relief to never again sleep in the mansion. “Actually, I do prefer the top bunk, so if you wouldn’t mind the bottom—” “No, I mean, do you really think I can stay with you? Wouldn’t your parents mind?” “They’ll like it. They’ve decided you’re a good influence on me.” Lydia thought that being a good influence made her sound as boring as being a person who liked everyone (except she didn’t). But if that was what she had to suffer to get out of the mansion, she’d accept it. Both girls were in their new ballet skirts, swishing along on their way to see Blossom. Alice was carrying the oats in a bag—the skirts were without pockets—and Lydia was carrying Natalie’s phone, plus two books, in another bag. Alice knew about only one of the books, Practical Magic, written by an Alice for grown-ups. The other, sneaked in by Lydia, was a copy of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass. She was hoping to convince both Alice and Blossom to love it. Unless—she stopped walking—that could be considered being a good influence. No, she decided, and started walking again, quickly, to catch up with Alice as she entered the field. They’d decided to begin the visit with a dance, the best way to show Blossom their new skirts. This was the first time the two of them had danced together seriously, and anyone other than sheep would have appreciated the vision—the beautiful skirts, the fusion of ballet and tae kwon do, the paean to freedom and friendship. But to Blossom, the oat carriers seemed to have gone crazy, spinning around like bugs trying to escape a water trough. She stopped halfway across the field, apparently planning to chomp on grass until they became less buglike. The dancing a failure, the girls moved on to the second part of the entertainment. Alice took out oats, Lydia took out Practical Magic, and Blossom came the rest of the way over, accepting the oats and ignoring the book.

I stand at the seashore, alone, and start to think…s There are the rushing waves mountains of molecules each stupidly minding its own business trillions apart yet forming white surf in unison…. For whom, for what?…. Deep in the sea all molecules repeat the pattern of one another till complex new ones are formed. They make others like themselves and a new dance starts. Growing in size and complexity living things masses of atoms DNA, protein dancing a pattern ever more intricate. Out of the cradle onto dry land here it is standing: atoms with consciousness; matter with curiosity. Stands at the sea, wonders at wondering: I a universe of atoms an atom in the universe. Richard P. Feynman2