Discover the most popular and inspiring quotes and sayings on the topic of Trots. Share them with your friends on social media platforms like Facebook, Twitter, or your personal blogs, and let the world be inspired by their powerful messages. Here are the Top 100 Trots Quotes And Sayings by 98 Authors including Santosh Kalwar,Wayne Mcgregor,George A. Sheehan,Percy Cerutty,Gelett Burgess for you to enjoy and share.
Free from ivory-tower
the pencil twirls
across the footpath
Choreography and creativity - it's my matrix; let's see where we can move.
The music of a marathon is a powerful strain, one of those tunes of glory. It asks us to forsake pleasures, to discipline the body, to find courage, to renew faith and to become one's own person, utterly and completely.
Runners don't run with their legs, they run ON their legs. In reality, they run with their Arms!
My feet, they haul me Round the House, They hoist me up the Stairs; I only have to steer them, and They Ride me Everywheres.
Time is passing : not leaden stepping
But sprinting on winged feet,
Quick silver slipping by.
For me, prose walks, poetry dances.
Dancing takes a certain lightness, a spring in the step, an elasticity in the calves; a kind of joie de vivre, or alternatively a leavening element of self-proclaiming stupidity in one's make-up.
Were placed along the course, here and there. There was no 'One, two, three, and away,' but they began running when they liked, and left off when they liked, so that it was not easy to know when the race was over. However, when they had been running half an hour or so, and were quite dry again, the
Putting facts by the thousands, into the world, the toes take off with an appealing squeak which the thumping heel follows confidentially, the way men greet men. Sometimes walking is just such elated pumping.
The dance of the soul!
The footsteps of Nature are to be trac'd, not only in her ordinary course, but when she seems to be put to her shifts, to make many doublings and turnings, and to use some kind of art in endeavouring to avoid our discovery.
And the dancing has begun now, And the Dancings whirl round gaily In the waltz's giddy mazes, And the ground beneath them trembles.
Take my hand, my love. On sinews of air we tread Aught but distance our guide With no tempo to our gait No endpoint drawn Neither plot nor plan
A good runner leaves no footprints.
We tiptoed the tops of beaver dams, hopped hummocks, went wading, looked at spring flowers, tried to catcha snake, got lost and found. How fine it was to move at a meandery, child's pace.
Dance is an ephemeral, a fleeting art. To describe this momentum, every movement on stage, in words is virtually impossible.
With Angela drawn to the hangdog look and Malachy lonely after three months in jail, there was bound to be a knee-trmbler.
A knee-trmbler is the act itself done up against a wall, man and woman up on their toes, straining so hard their knees tremble with the excitement that's in it.
Weaving olden dances; mingling hands and mingling glances.
Whats the name you Poms have for that thing where you jump up and down and hit each other with sticks?"
"Sex?"
"Gardening?"
He snapped his fingers. "Morris dancing.
Running like a bunny with his tail on fire.
Dancing to the sounds of trees and stones and slow minutes ticking in our hearts and bones.
Men don't traipse. We... Swagger
The Doctor snorted. 'Wimp!' He squared his shoulders and turned towards the fire, grinning. 'Race you.' And he was off, running. Jack hesitated, sighed, swore, and ran after him. Levin and Krylek, Catherine and the villagers stared after them in astonishment. Two dark figures running though fire ...
Racing down the kingsroad, as if to outrun his doubts.
A local train ... moved gently off up the line with a very singular motion indeed, in which the leap of a frog, the bounce of a pogo-stick, and the canter of a very short fat pony all were brought to mind.
The world is full of people running
Movement is life!
Who runs in circles never gets far.
The whole wood seemed running now, running hard, hunting, chasing, closing in round something or - somebody? In panic, he began to run too, aimlessly, he knew not whither.
He dances all night, utterly naked and composed of nothing but six and a half feet of pale sinew. He could dance to a field of crickets, to the sound of rain on a tin roof, to a stampede.
Ballet.something pure in this crazy world
Dancing is like poetry written by our bodies: our outstretched arms our words of longing.
There are few instincts more natural than the body in full motion as it races across a field or through the trees.
That was when I realized I was leaving my footprints all around the room. The soles of my feet were covered with blood. While continuing to move around, I carefully examined the prints. Suddenly I felt like laughing. They were dance steps. The footprints of St. Vitus. Footprints leading nowhere.
In the almost film-like flitting-by of modern life, a man needs something to tell him, from time to time, that he is still himself, and nothing can give him this assurance in so comforting a manner as the "four feet trotting behind".
Paths are made by walking
Folks were doin' a lot of runnin' that night
Movement is the essence of life.
The march of good fortune has backward slips: to retreat one or two paces gives wings to the jumper.
In the dance, one finds the cinema, the comic strips, the Olympic hundred meters and swimming, and what's more, poetry, love and tenderness.
Dance is in my background.
You dance the troika in the opening of my veins and I only protest with a murmur.
All dancers have a cumulative tendency, because each beat of the tom-tom has an almost irresistible appeal. Soon, those who were just spectators would dance too.
Whether running, biking, swimming, or dancing, I just like to always be on the move.
Every day brings a chance for you to draw in a breath, kick off your shoes, and dance.
Frau Elena paces the parlor, her slippers whispering left, whispering right. Coal cars grind past in the wet dark. Machinery hums in the distance: pistons throbbing, belts turning. Smoothly. Madly.
The ballerina on perfected toe
Spins to the axis of a fortitude
That is the sum of all her yesterdays.
The race belongs not only to the swift and strong but to those who keep on running
At first an ordeal and then an accomplishment, the daily run becomes a staple, like bread, or wine, a fine marriage, or air. It is also a free pass to friendship.
Dance is movement, and movement is life.
Choreography is writing on your feet.
My greatest ideas stem from running.
Ballet really taught me so much about the power of movement.
Every journey begins with a single pawstep. (warriors)
Advent: the time to listen for footsteps - you can't hear footsteps when
you're running yourself.
I always like to keep myself moving.
Parkour," I panted. "Bitch.
My feet is my only carriage.
poleaxed with exuberance. Keeping to dirt roads,
We judge a horse not only by its pace on a racecourse, but also by its walk, nay, when resting in its stable.
The Dance: A minimum of explanation, a minimum of anecdotes - and a maximum of sensations.
They dance together in a line, murmuring in swift, low voices, smiling carefully as they are too proud to give away their beauty. They are light steppers with a gravity of sure grace.
I tramp a perpetual journey.
Only the legs that run are those that really have muscles!
what is a journey
without someone who wanders
if sometimes a pair
is made of two
The path is revealed in the treading.
I finally discovered the source of all movement, the unity from which all diversities of movement are born.
I was running on the earth,
Slashing primeval winds.
I was running in the world,
Riddled with darkness.
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.
Whose steps were a restless substitute for flight.
'Run' is exciting, about family secrets, the mystery surrounding them and the outdoor sport of parkour. The story itself is full of intrigue and action, but the parkour takes the story to another level. It was an absolutely incredible experience, working with experts from all over the country.
To brisk notes in cadence beating, glance their many-twinkling feet.
Never mistake movement for action ... a rocking horse moves; a race horse charges towards a goal.
We perfectly agreed in our ideas of traveling; we hurried from place to place as fast as horses and wheels, and curses and guineas, could carry us.
Hee that stumbles and falles not, mends his pace.
Little boys love machines; girls adore horses; grown-up men and women like to walk.
Walk. Run. Ride.
My dreams and I spin tighter
the longer we practice our intricate steps
A dancer's career is short - you just keep going until your legs pack up.
On he went, one foot in front of the other. Now that he accepted the slowness of himself, he took pleasure in the distance he covered.
At the root of all the various manifestations of dancing lies the common impulse to resort to movement to externalize emotional states which we cannot externalize by rational means.
Eddies of dry wind whipped tatters of cloth and reed paper about in dancing circles.
racing for his freedom along the battlements and rooftops of St Pol.
You can't go on running forever ... " "And you can't go on ... " Alfie desperately searched for the right word, " ... mopedding* forever!
Running so hard, her breath stippled with pain to go faster, hit the grass harder, move forward faster, like she could break through something in front of her, something no one else saw.
Slowly, very slowly, like two unhurried compass needles, the feet turned towards the right; north, north-east, east, south-east, south, south-south-west; then paused, and after a few seconds, turned as unhurriedly back towards the left. South-south-west, south, south-east, east ...
Movement is my medicine, my meditation, my metaphor and my method, a living language we can rely upon to tell us the truth about who we are, who we are with, and where we are going. There is no dogma in the dance.
Trying to follow in the footsteps of the masters, but it's a lot harder than it looks because even though they had the same size feet as us, they weren't looking down the whole time while they walked to make sure they were doing it right
The wheel weaves as the wheel wills
To live and to laugh require a reason. But dancing is so close to one's guts that it has no reason and yet it needs none; it's physical, and as a source of good cheer it is end endless.
We don't move with our legs and arms, but with courage and will power.
However fast you run, or however skilfully, you can't run away from your own feet.
Round and round we spin, with feet of lead and wings of tin.
weaving his way across
Just as ballroom dancing and pair skating command partners to work together seamlessly, in the sport of dressage, the rider performers an intricate pas de deux with his partner - a twelve-hundred-pound four-footed beast.
Standing is stupid,
Crawling's a curse,
Skipping is silly,
Walking is worse.
Hopping is hopeless,
Jumping's a chore,
Sitting is senseless,
Leaning's a bore.
Running's ridiculous,
Jogging's insane-
Guess I'll go upstairs and
Lie down again.
All creative activity begins with movement.
Here's a guy who when he runs, he moves faster.
Dancing is just discovery, discovery, discovery