— Would you like to learn to tango, Donna?
— Right now?
— I'm offering you my services, free of charge. What do you say?
— I think I'd be a little afraid.
— Of what?
— Afraid of making a mistake.
— No mistakes in the tango, Donna. Not like life. It's simple. That's what makes the tango so great. If you make a mistake, get all tangled up, just tango on.
— Hey, Sheboygan. What was your last job? Playing square dances?
— No. Funerals.
— Would you mind rejoining the living? Goose it up a little.
Dancing is just a conversation between two people. Talk to me.
Listen, guys, dancing isn't something you think about. It's a form of self-expression that no one can *ever* take away from you.
— Whatcha doing?
— A rain dance.
— Dude, that's not a rain dance, that's a fat kid with a bee in his pants.
In marriage, the man is supposed to provide for the support of the woman, the woman to make the home agreeable to the man; he is to purvey, and she is to smile.
But in dancing, their duties are exactly changed; the agreeableness, the compliance are expected from him, while she furnishes the fan and the lavender water.
This is a ballet studio, Terry. Okay? These poles are horizontal.
Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell,
It was love from above, like it saved me from hell,
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see,
And the devil himself could be pulled out of me.
There were drums in the air as she started to dance,
Every soul in the room keeping time with there hands,
And we sang...