Dancing is the poetry of the foot. – John Dryden
We lovd, and we lovd as long as we could
Til our love was lovd out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure has fled:
Twas pleasure that made it an oath. – John Dryden
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Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun. – John Dryden
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