Quotes & Sayings About Belly Dance

Gilgamesh, where are you hurrying to? You will never find that life for which you are looking. When the gods created man they allotted to him death, but life they retained in their own keeping. As for you, Gilgamesh, fill your belly with good things; day and night, night and day, dance and be merry, feast and rejoice. Let your clothes be fresh, bathe yourself in water, cherish the little child that holds your hand, and make your wife happy in your embrace; for this too is the lot of man. — Anonymous

Ig had always liked to listen to his father, to watch him while he played. It was almost wrong to say his father played. It often seemed the other way around: that the horn was playing him. The way his cheeks swole out, then caved in as if he were being inhaled into it, the way the golden keys seemed to grab his fingers like little magnets snatching at iron filings, causing them to leap and dance in unexpected, startling fits. The way he shut his eyes and bent his head and twisted back and forth at the hips, as if his torso were in auger, screwing its way deeper and deeper into the centre of his being, pulling the music up from somewhere in the pit of his belly. — Joe Hill

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She didn't need to turn around to know he was standing behind her. Most likely with a smirk at catching her impromptu belly dance. — Rachel Harris

And then there are the cravings.. Oh, la! A woman may crave to be near water, or be belly down, her face in the earth, smelling the wild smell. She might have to drive into the wind. She may have to plant something, pull things out of the ground or put them into the ground. She may have to knead and bake, rapt in dough up to her elbows.
She may have to trek into the hills, leaping from rock to rock trying out her voice against the mountain. She may need hours of starry nights where the stars are like face powder spilt on a black marble floor. She may feel she will die if she doesn't dance naked in a thunderstorm, sit in perfect silence, return home ink-stained, paint-stained, tear-stained, moon-stained. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

People came to my parents' parties because they were going to have fun and, if lucky, our mother would belly dance. What they didn't know was that the hostess made sure every morsel placed in front of them was pure and without anything artificial, no matter what the cost. — Sandra Bullock

Quick, think of a marvelous excuse he'll totally swallow. Aha!"To practice. Unlike you guys, I haven't tried my particular talent since Granny May signed me up for belly-dancing classes when I was fifteen."And, by the way, why the hell did I consent to that? Or decide I loved it? Never mind, he's buying it. In fact, he seems to be hot on the idea. Are his eyes glowing? And is Cole's tongue hanging out? This is why I didn't want to dance in the first place! "Anyway," I rushed on. "I'm going to find a private place where nobody can see to laugh at me while you beat this tent" - or, more likely, these two idiots - "into submission. — Jennifer Rardin

I can't belly dance.'
Yes, you can. It's in your fi
'
Will you stop reading my goddamn file! — Jennifer Rardin

I am NOT a belly dancer. I have never been one, and never will be. What I do is not what Hollywood vulgarly calls 'belly dance', but it's art. I have traveled the world to prove that my dance is not a dance of the belly but a refined, artistic dance full of tradition, of dreaming and beauty. Oriental dance is primarily an expressive dance; in that resides the beauty. — Nadia Gamel

He holds out his hand, and in his palm are two shiny silver balls linked with a thick black thread ... Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils ... Oh my ... It's a curious feeling. Once they're inside me, I can't really feel them - but then again I know they're there ... Oh my ... I may have to keep these. They make me needy, needy for sex. — E.L. James

Let the ceiling split in two, let electricity dance like burning snakes between the gaps, let it writhe and wrap its tendrils around men's flesh, let them for a moment be seared with blazing light and the earth has opened beneath them and those who did not flee are trapped. Some are impaled on the foundation rods that lanced up from the ground itself - him upon a spike that has passed straight through his belly, pushing him off the ground like a doll [that's just disgusting]. — Kate Griffin

The car rolled slowly along the deserted corniche, headlights cleaving its way through Beirut by night. In gentle swerves to avoid potholes, the Mercedes waltzed along a straight road in a dance of death. Sick palm trees and parched grass divided the tarred road of civilization. The sea alone was testimony to God's beautiful creation. But in its belly, corpses, limbs, garbage, and ordnance mingled with a sea life on the verge of extinction. — Dana K. Haffar

Your inner Belly Dancer ... is your inner sensuality, your highest feminity, your great esteemed self made more apparent. — Leandra J. Kalsy

We dare not talk of the darkness for fear it will infect us.
We dare not talk of the fire, for fear it will destroy us.
And so we live in the half-light,
Like our mothers before us.

Come to the fire,
Feel it warm your skin.
Come to the fire,
Feel it burn in your belly,
Shine out through your eyes.
Come dance in the fire,
Let it fuel your prayers. — Lucy H. Pearce

Terence, this is stupid stuff: You eat your victuals fast enough; There can't be much amiss, 'tis clear, To see the rate you drink your beer. But oh, good Lord, the verse you make, It gives a chap the belly-ache. The cow, the old cow, she is dead; It sleeps well the horned head: We poor lads, 'tis our turn now To hear such tunes as killed the cow. Pretty friendship 'tis to rhyme Your friends to death before their time. Moping, melancholy mad: Come, pipe a tune to dance to, lad. — A.E. Housman

This dance isn't just about shaking your waist and your ass. — Nagwa Fouad

I think our last kiss was meant to be quick and chaste, but after the first touch of his lips fire leaped up and roared through my belly. My fingers yanked him close, digging into his back, and his arms crushed me to him as if wanting to meld us together. I knotted my fingers in his hair and bit down on his bottom lip, making him groan. His lips parted, and my tongue swept in to dance with his. There was nothing sweet or gentle in our last kiss; it was filled with sorrow and desperation, of the bitter knowledge that we could've had something perfect, but it just wasn't meant to be. — Julie Kagawa

Inside me! I gasp, and all the muscles deep in my belly clench. My inner goddess is doing the dance of the seven veils. — E.L. James

He lunges at me, pushing me against the wall of the elevator. Before I know it, he's got both of my hands in one of his in a vise-like grip above my head, and he's pinning me to the wall using his hips. Holy shit. His other hand grabs my hair and yanks down, bringing my face up, and his lips are on mine. It's only just not painful. I moan into his mouth, giving his tongue an opening. He takes full advantage, his tongue expertly exploring my mouth. I have never been kissed like this. My tongue tentatively strokes his and joins his in a slow, erotic dance that's all about touch and sensation, all bump and grind. He brings his hand up to grasp my chin and holds me in place. I'm helpless, my hands pinned, my face held, and his hips restraining me. His erection is against my belly. Oh my ... He wants me. Christian Grey, Greek god, wants me, and I want him, here ... now, in the elevator. — E.L. James

From her very flesh and blood and from the constant cycles of filling and emptying the red vase in her belly, a woman understands physically, emotionally, and spiritually that zeniths fade and expire, and what is left is reborn in unexpected ways and by inspired means, only to fall back to nothing, and yet be reconceived again in full glory. — Clarissa Pinkola Estes

i am queen of percha, sullenest of the seven seas, Behold my dusky desert beauty". She wiped of her scarf and did a terrible belly dance. — Soman Chainani

In the empty lobby outside the Dance Hall she paused to scent the air from the landing board. The orchard was sweet and cool in the rising dawn, and the rain had almost stopped. The comb began to thrum as the hive awoke and the multitude of sisters began moving. Once desperate to be out on the wing, Flora no longer wanted to forage, only to be still and breather sweet wax.

The egg in her belly glowed bright inside her like a tiny sun. — Laline Paull

I didn't study dance. I had some ballet lessons because I needed it for posture and for my arms, mostly. My skating coach said I really needed it, from the belly button up, as opposed to the footwork. In skating, the shoes don't move. — Dorothy Hamill

Sometimes I dance, alone, to music no-one can hear but me. When I dance I feel the beat of the earth's own heart rise through my feet and legs, through my loins and belly and into my chest, until my own heart beats in time with the earth's. Then I wonder if you feel it too, beneath that portion of the earth's crust where you stand, or walk, or lie, or dance too. Because always, when I'm dancing, I'm dancing with you. — Sarah Bower

Brush your teeth with gasoline.
Sleep all day and climb trees at night.
Be a monk and drink buckshot and beer.
Hold your head under water and play the violin.
Do a belly dance before pink candles.
Kill your dog.
Run for mayor.
Live in a barrel.
Break your head with a hatchet.
Plant tulips in the rain.

But don't write any more poetry. — Charles Bukowski