Jerome Robbins Quotes

Dancing is poetry with arms and legs.

My work is about my life as an event, and I find myself to be very temporal, transient.

We're all just passing time and occupy our chair very briefly.

Life is like a fire. Flames which the passer-by forgets. Ashes which the wind scatters. A man lived.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting.

Life is a bubble in a lake, that glitters for an instant, bursts, and leaves not even a blur on the water; it is the leap of a minnow, which sends a tiny ripple trembling for a few inches.

Today's today. Tomorrow we may be ourselves gone down the drain of Eternity.

Nothing lasts forever. That's the tragedy and the miracle of existence - that everything is impermanent. Everything changes. All we can do is make the best of the time we have. And go down shooting, naturally.

Life is the dancer and you are the dance.

This was what it meant to be human, to know that time moved and all things changed.

Mortalhood is a fine state to visit, but you'd better not call it home.

In life, and in sports, we all know that nothing lasts forever.

For us humans, everything is permanent - until it changes, as we are immortal until we die

And a man's life's no more than to say "One."

Infancy is what is eternal, and the rest, all the rest, is brevity, extreme brevity.

You live as long as you dance.

The Earth never ceases to spin. All life is dancing : The trees, the wind, the sea. Keep dancing for the rest of your life.

Life is a spark between two identical voids, the darkness before birth and the one after death.

We are occupants. No one has any lasting purchase on life or on the planet.

To make the best use of your life, you must never forget two truths: First, compared with eternity, life is extremely brief. Second, earth is only a temporary residence. You won't be here long, so don't get too attached.

When we exist, death is not yet present, and when death is present, then we do not exist.

The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.

To venerate the simple days Which lead the seasons by, Needs but to remember That from you or I They may take the trifle Termed mortality!