Quotes & Sayings About Slow Dance

That's when Sam grabbed my hand. "I love this song!" She led me to the dance floor. And she started dancing. And I started dancing. It was a fast song, so I wasn't very good, but she didn't seem to mind. We were just dancing, and that was enough. The song ended, and then a slow one came on. She looked at me. I looked at her. Then, she took my hands and pulled me in to dance slow. I don't know how to dance slow very well either, but I do know how to sway. Her whisper smelled like cranberry juice and vodka. "I looked for you in the parking lot today." I hoped mine still smelled like toothpaste. "I was looking for you, too." Then, we were quiet for the rest of the song. She held me a little closer. I held her a little closer. And we kept dancing. It was the one time all day that I really wanted the clock to stop. And just be there for a long time. — Stephen Chbosky

Before I could do anything rash, a familiar voice behind me said, "Hello, Sadie."
The other girls let out a collective gasp. My pulse quickened from "slow walk" to "fifty-meter-dash."
I turned and found that-yes, indeed-the god Anubis had crashed our dance. — Rick Riordan

It's never the wedding dresses, you know. We keep those, too, but only because they're so blooming expensive. No. I've seen enough old ladies' closets to know what we really hold on to. Not the till-death-do-us-part dresses. It's those first lovely dresses: the slow dance dresses, the good-night-kiss dresses. It's those first pangs we hold on to. — Alexis M. Smith

Ha! Don't you know that writers are control freaks? We make our characters dance to our own weird tunes. That's half the fun."

She angled his head ever so slowly to the right. "What's the other half?" Just as the position became uncomfortable, she reversed the motion.

"Rewriting," he said. "You know how you think of a brilliant response to an insult six hours later when it's utterly useless? A writer has a time machine. I can go back to the moment the insult was hurled and parry it with my slow but rapier-sharp wit."

"Relax. I've got you," she said, rotating his head gently to the right. "I guess us nonwriters think you just sit down at your computer and the book comes out the way we read it."

"We foster that myth. It makes us seem more like creative geniuses and less like mere craftsmen. — Nancy Herkness

First slow dance, you get out there and ask her. Promise?"
Max knocked back his shot. "Fine, I can probably manage that."
I chugged my water as another good song came on. So I grabbed his hand. "Don't be self-conscious. I'm going to teach you some move. Nothing fancy."
He watched me for a few seconds than shook his head. "My pelvis only moves that way under one circumstance. This isn't it. — Ann Aguirre

In the mind there is a continual play of obscure images which coming between the eyes and their prey seem pictures on the screen at the movies. Sometimes there appears to be a maladjustment. The wish would be to see not floating visions of unknown purport but the imaginative qualities of the actual things being perceived accompany their gross vision in a slow dance, interpreting as they go. But inasmuch as this will not always be the case one must dance nevertheless as he can. — William Carlos Williams

I was performing in this burlesque group, and we would go to dance rehearsals every day. You'd use every part of your body. Even though some of it is slow, it takes a lot of muscle to be able to dip down and come back up. — Carmen Electra

Nick stands up and offers his hand to me. I have no idea what he wants, but what the hell, I take his hand anyway, and he pulls me up on my feet then presses against me for a slow dance and it's like we're in a dream where he's Christopher Plummer and I'm Julie Andrews and we're dancing on the marble floor of an Austrian terrace garden. Somehow my head presses Nick's t-shirt and in this moment I am forgetting about time and Tal because maybe my life isn't over. Maybe it's only beginning. — Rachel Cohn

The Waking
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I feel my fate in what I cannot fear.
I learn by going where I have to go.
We think by feeling. What is there to know?
I hear my being dance from ear to ear.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Of those so close beside me, which are you?
God bless the Ground! I shall walk softly there,
And learn by going where I have to go.
Light takes the Tree; but who can tell us how?
The lowly worm climbs up a winding stair;
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
Great Nature has another thing to do
To you and me, so take the lively air,
And, lovely, learn by going where to go.
This shaking keeps me steady. I should know.
What falls away is always. And is near.
I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow.
I learn by going where I have to go. — Theodore Roethke

Knowing how you want to use music is extremely important, as is understanding the potential psychological and physiological effects that are inherent in the music. Slow pulsed New Age music is excellent, of course, for relaxation but it's not ideal for dancing. Yet, if dancing (and the extraordinary energy release found by dancing) is desired, slow New Age music is not ideal. What is your purpose for using a specific piece of music? Is it for meditation, guided imagery, dance, deep recollection, or for emotional release?

Realizing that every type of music has the ability to resonate with us on many different levels, it is possible that any type of music can have positive results. We should be open-minded about all music and the possible transformative and therapeutic results that can occur from it. — Jonathan Goldman

Then Richard did something surprising. He politely halted the conversation. In his flip flops, he climbed onto the table amid our plates and glasses. He then extended his hand to Kristina , who was sitting next to me, and helped her up onto the table.
"Let's dance," he said.
And they did. A beautiful slow dance right there in the middle of the feast while everyone else watched--surprised and amused--cutlery and wine glasses be damned.
It was the perfect reminder that life is not all business. We're here in this brief span of time to be happy together. — Vishen Lakhiani

ABNER Marsh had a mind that was not unlike his body. It was big all around, ample in size and capacity, and he crammed all sorts of things into it. It was strong as well; when Abner Marsh took something in his hand it did not easily slip away, and when he took something in his head it was not easily forgotten. He was a powerful man with a powerful brain, but body and mind shared one other trait as well: they were deliberate. Some might even say slow. Marsh did not run, he did not dance, he did not scamper or slide along; he walked with a straightforward dignified gait that nonetheless got him where he wanted to go. So it was with his mind. Abner Marsh was not quick in word or thought, but he was far from stupid; he chewed over things thoroughly, but at his own pace. — George R R Martin

He shifts on his knees and leans into me until I am lying on my back. He's supporting himself above me on his one elbow and wraps his other hand around my head, pulling me in for a slow kiss. I hold his face in my hands as his lips dance across mine. When he pulls back, he takes his time staring at me, and I get lost in his clear-blue eyes for a moment before he says, "You're not gonna lose me, babe. I love you too much to let you go." - Ryan Campbell — E.K. Blair

Relationships are like a dance, with visible energy racing back and forth between the partners. Some relationships are the slow, dark dance of death. — Colette Dowling

O never harm the dreaming world, the world of green, the world of leaves, but let its million palms unfold the adoration of the trees It is a love in darkness wrought obedient to the unseen sun, longer than memory, a thought deeper than the graves of time. The turning spindles of the cells weave a slow forest over space, the dance of love, creation, out of time moves not a leaf, and out of summer, not a shade. — Kathleen Raine

Let's take it slow because some of the good things in life are worthy of reverence and appreciation. Let's take it slow because what we have is like a cross-country ride, where all the breathtaking scenes must be breathed in and stared at with wonder. Let's take it slow because getting to know you is like a trip to a museum where things, both wonderful and gruesome, are waiting to be discovered. Let's take it slow because some things are best done at a leisurely pace - the slow dance, the first kiss, making love. — Nessie Q.

When I dance with him, one of my great loves, he is absolutely human, and when he turns to dip me or I step on his foot because we are both leading, I know that one of us will die first and the other will suffer. The slow dance of what's to come and the slow dance of insomnia pouring across the floor like bath water. — Matthew Dickman

I like Sam Smith and Taylor Swift. I love pop music, but I also like Sam Smith's slow songs. That would be more to dance to. I think dancers like different genres of music, compared to just a regular person. — Maddie Ziegler

No reprimand in the mirror
Slow walk to Liberia
Slow dance across the Sahara
Slow unraveling of gray matter — Mellon Black

Do people in the twenty-first century still dance?"
My heart beat thundered in my ears, far louder than the slow music. "Um," I said, barely able to swallow, my throat had gone so dry. "Sometimes."
"How about now?" he asked.
And then his strong arms were encircling my waist, his breath soft against my cheek as he gently whispered my name: "Susannah. Susannah ... — Meg Cabot

A few other couples joined us on the dance floor and we lost ourselves among them. I'd never been able to figure out exactly what was involved in slow dancing, so I contented myself, as I had since high school, with gripping my partner to me, letting out awkward breaths against her ear, and tipping from foot to foot like someone waiting for a bus. I could feel the sweat cooling on her forearms and smell a trace of apples in her hair. — Michael Chabon

BEANNACHT For Josie On the day when the weight deadens on your shoulders and you stumble, may the clay dance to balance you. And when your eyes freeze behind the gray window and the ghost of loss gets in to you, may a flock of colors, indigo, red, green and azure blue come to awaken in you a meadow of delight. When the canvas frays in the curach of thought and a stain of ocean blackens beneath you, may there come across the waters a path of yellow moonlight to bring you safely home. May the nourishment of the earth be yours, may the clarity of light be yours, may the fluency of the ocean be yours, may the protection of the ancestors be yours. And so may a slow wind work these words of love around you, an invisible cloak to mind your life. — John O'Donohue

Water and air He for the Tenor chose,
Earth made the Base, the Treble Fame arose,
To th' active Moon a quick brisk stroke he gave,
To Saturn's string a touch more sore and grave.
The motions strait, and round, and swift, and slow,
And short and long, were mixt and woven so,
Did in such artful Figures smoothly fall,
As made this decent measur'd dance of all.
And this is Musick. — Abraham Cowley

Simplify, slow down, be kind. And don't forget to have art in your life - music, paintings, theater, dance, and sunsets. — Eric Carle

What if more of life could be like that? Like the last slow dance, where, to echo T.S. Eliot, a lifetime burns in every moment. — Alice Steinbach

We made love. How pedestrian the words look-trite, worn, practically featureless with use-but how can one better describe that which happens when it happens? That creation? That magic blending? I might say we became figures in a mesmerized dance before the rocking talisman of the moon, starting slow, so slow ... a pair of feathers drifting through clear liquid substance of sky ... gradually accelerating, faster and faster and finally into photon existence of pure light ... as my whole straining body burst like fluid electricity into hers. — Ken Kesey

Scuffing her bare feet into slippers, she shrugged into a silk robe, then hesitated, looking down at Perrin. He would be able to see her clearly, if he woke, but to her, he was just a shadowed mound. She wished her mother were there, now, to advise her. She loved Perrin with every fiber of her being, and he confused every fiber. Actually understanding men was impossible, of course, but he was so unlike anyone she had grown up with. He never swaggered, and instead of laughing at himself, he was... modest. She had not believed a man could be modest! He insisted that only chance had made him a leader, claimed he did not know how to lead, when men who met him were ready to follow after an hour. He dismissed his own thinking as slow, when those slow, considering thoughts saw so deeply that she had to dance a merry jig to keep any secrets at all. He was a wonderful man, her curly-haired wolf. So strong. And so gentle. — Robert Jordan

My mother was happy that day, we did not know why. And if she was sad the next, we did not know why. And if she was gone the next, we did not know why. It was as if she righted herself continually against some current that never ceased to pull. She swayed continuously, like a thing in water, and it was graceful, a slow dance, a sad and heady dance — Marilynne Robinson

Probably your biggest mistake was doing funk-dance to Unchained Melody," the dog offered earnestly. "It's a ballad, Alf, and to be honest, it's one of the slowest songs I can think of. You'd have been better off doing a slow waltz to something with that tempo. The other factor may have been the large amount of beer you consumed beforehand. — Mark Jackman

You can argue that it's a different world now than the one when Matthew Shepard was killed, but there is a subtle difference between tolerance and acceptance. It's the distance between moving into the cul-de-sac and having your next door neighbor trust you to keep an eye on her preschool daughter for a few minutes while she runs out to the post office. It's the chasm between being invited to a colleague's wedding with your same-sex partner and being able to slow-dance without the other guests whispering. — Jodi Picoult

John asked me to dance and I nearly died. Bingo! I then amazed myself by being very cool, calm and collected outwardly-inside I was out of this world. The dance was slow and smoochy. I was aloof and John, I think, was slightly embarrassed. It was all very painful and beautiful at the same time. The remaining students were looking on with puzzled expressions at such an unlikely combination. — Cynthia Lennon

1976. The Bicentennial. In the laundromat, you want for the time on your coins to run out. Through the porthole of the dryer, you watch your bedeviled towels and sheets leap and fall. The radio station piped in from the ceiling plays slow, sad Motown; it encircles you with the desperate hopefulness of a boy at a dance, and it makes you cry. When you get back to your apartment, dump everything on your bed. Your mother is knitting crookedly: red, white, and blue. Kiss her hello. Say: "Sure was warm in the place." She will seem not to hear you. — Lorrie Moore

Maxon looked down at my wrist. "Do you..." He looked up at me, seeming to rethink his question. "Do you want to dance?"
I nodded. "But I'm awful."
"We'll go slow. — Kiera Cass

With my ninth mind I resurrect my first
and dance slow to the music of my soul made new. — Aberjhani

The song "Dream a Little Dream of Me" comes on Tariq's playlist, which makes Harry think of the movie Beautiful Thing, as Tariq no doubt knew it would. Harry can feel Craig smile under his lips, and knows he must be sharing the same thought. As confirmation, Harry feels Craig's finger on his back, tracing the letter B, then T. They start to shuffle and slow-dance. It feels good to move their legs. — David Levithan

But that's how nostalgia is: a slow dance in a large circle. Memories don't organize themselves chronologically, they're like smoke, changing, ephemeral, and if they're not written down they fade into oblivion. — Isabel Allende

As she reached the stairs, she made a quick detour and stepped outside.
A crescent moon hung in the midnight blue sky along with trillions of twinkling stars. Out here there were no streetlights to wash out the view. She loved being able to see the stars.
Tonight, the mountains were etched deep purple against the night sky. The white snowcapped tips gleamed silver. Nearer, silhouetted pine trees swayed in the breeze as if in a slow dance.
"You are such a romantic," Trask had once told her. "Are you sure you want to open a bar? You should be writing poetry."
She'd laughed. "How do you know I don't? — B. J. Daniels

It was penance, my own slow dance in purgatory. — Amy Harmon

Momentarily drained of lust, he stares at the remembered contortions to which it has driven him. His life seems a sequence of grotesque poses assumed to no purpose, a magic dance empty of belief. There is no God; Janice can die: the two thoughts come at once, in one slow wave. He feels underwater, caught in chains of transparent slime, ghosts of the urgent ejaculations he has spat into the mild bodies of women. His fingers on his knees pick at persistent threads. — John Updike

At the end Nora swayed in my arms to something slow and very old, after being convinced that, yes, this is how we slow-dance behind Punk lines, and no, I'm not telling you that just so I can hold you. — Lia Habel

O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing The same that were taught me ten seasons ago; The schoolmaster over the land is advancing, Then why is the master of dancing so slow? It is such a bore to be always caught tripping In dull uniformity year after year; Invent something new, and you'll set me a skipping: I want a new figure to dance with my Dear! — Thomas Haynes Bayly

Time goes by at the speed of life
Slower than a slow dance
on a hot summer night
Faster than the skin breaks
on the edge of a knife
And we just go on at the speed of life — Jude Cole

When slow songs do play, people joke that you should be able to fit "the standard works" between you and your partner. The standard works is a Mormon term referring to all of the religious books we study. So when you're slow dancing, the Old Testament, New Testament, The Book of Mormon, Doctrine and Covenants, and Pearl of Great Price should be able to fit in the space between you and your dance partner
or you're dancing too close. — Elna Baker

Would you like me to court you?" the earl finally asked.
YES. She smoothed her hands over her skirts to keep from confessing it aloud. "I would like to know if you are," she replied. "Or what your intentions are, if you aren't."
"My intentions . . ." His slow smile acted like a torch held to her skin. She felt prickly with heat and yet transfixed by the glowing allure of it. "I intend to have you, Maggie, in every way a man can have a woman. I want your hand in mine while we dance. I want you laughing beside me in the theater. I want you lying naked in my arms at night. And I want you standing beside me in church, saying 'I will.' — Caroline Linden

Does art have a future? Performance genres like opera, theater, music and dance are thriving all over the world, but the visual arts have been in slow decline for nearly 40 years. No major figure of profound influence has emerged in painting or sculpture since the waning of Pop Art and the birth of Minimalism in the early 1970s. — Camille Paglia

Can I have this dance?"
He held out his arms expectantly, waiting as she grappled with her feelings. She gazed up into his eyes. One heartbeat later she slipped into his arms and he pulled her close. Her palm against his was heady, sending all sorts of tingles coursing up and down her arm. His other hand, on the small of her back, kept her close. They were awkward at first, but kept at it. He hummed as they moved around in a circle, her skirt swishing against her legs and sometimes tangling between his. A slow burn started on her neck. When they finished he let her go and took a small step back.
"Charlie, I..."
"Stop talking, Nell."
His eyes closed and his lips covered hers. The kiss was gentle as he pulled her tighter against him, driving all thought from her mind. His hands moved down and bracketed her waist and he tilted his head, deepening the kiss. — Caroline Fyffe

his life a constant uphill battle. No matter how hard he worked or how much he followed the rules, nothing ever changed, his life a monotonous country two-step. Quick, quick, slow, slow, run, run, walk, walk, a tedious, repetitive dance that never ended in a glorious crescendo. — Julia Bramer

They slow dance when it rains. I have no idea why, but every
time the sky turns gray, you'll find them together." I smiled. "I remember
once Dad barged into the Women's Room, which is completely
improper. You're supposed to be invited in. But it was raining,
and he wasn't going to wait to sweep her away. And one time
he dipped her in the hallway, and she just laughed and laughed.
She was still wearing her hair down then, and I'll never forget how
it looked like a waterfall of red. It's like no matter what happens,
they can find themselves again there. — Kiera Cass

Marching onward, marching onward
Marching to that lovely tune
Marching onward, marching onward
Happy as a bird in June

Sliding onward, sliding onward
Listen to that rag
Hop and skip now do that slow, oh
Do that slow drag

Dance slowly, prance slowly
Now you hear that pretty rag
Dance slowly, prance slowly
Now you do the real slow drag

Waltz slowly, waltz slowly
Listen to the ragtime
Hop and skip
Now do the slow, oh, do the slow drag — Scott Joplin

Can you dance?" she asked before she could stop herself.
"I can," he said, affronted. "I'm really good with the slow songs. — Jana Oliver

Life in the country teaches one that the really stimulating things are the quiet, natural things, and the really wearisome things are the noisy, unnatural things. It is more exciting to stand still than to dance. Silence is more eloquent than speech. Water is more stimulating than wine. Fresh air is more intoxicating than cigarette smoke. Sunlight is more subtle than electric light. The scent of grass is more luxurious than the most expensive perfume. The slow, simple observations of the peasant are more wise than the most sparkling epigrams of the latest wit. — Beverley Nichols

It's wrong, I know, but I play out this dance with him, exquisite and slow. I play it out in my head, because that is the only place it will ever happen. — Ann Brashares

They saw the Scots coming up out of their burrows like raving women in their skirts, dying in ripples across the yellowish-brown soil. They saw the steady tread of the Hampshire's as though they had willingly embarked on a slow-motion dance from which they were content not to return. They saw men from every corner walking, powerless, into an engulfing storm. — Sebastian Faulks

When you dance tango fast, you have to think slow. — Robert Duvall

Love is kisses and touches and all the little things that make your body flood with emotions such as need, want, protectiveness, jealousy, hurt, and anger. It can take your breath away, or smother you at times, and make you feel like you can't go on. Your heart may race a thousand miles per minute, then slow down, and then race again, just with a simple look. Love is deadly and can kill you from the inside out if you let it. It makes you do stupid, ridiculous things, and say senseless sappy words, or listen to silly love songs, jazz, or dance in the streets, or laugh, or smile. Love is a weapon, or a drug, and can drive a person mad. I know what love is ... — Lyra Parish

She says nothing at all, but simply stares upward into the dark sky and watches, with sad eyes, the slow dance of the infinite stars. — Neil Gaiman

The smell of the sea, of kelp and fish and bitter moving water, rose stronger in my nostrils. It flooded my consciousness like an ancestral memory. The swells rose sluggishly and fell away, casting up dismal gleams between the boards of the pier. And the whole pier rose and fell in stiff and creaking mimicry, dancing its long slow dance of dissolution. I reached the end and saw no one, heard nothing but my footsteps and the creak of the beams, the slap of waves on the pilings. It was a fifteen-foot drop to the dim water. The nearest land ahead of me was Hawaii. — Ross Macdonald

It's the color scheme of that first afternoon - that white panorama full of potential, that threshold white - that Marina understands as whomise. And that's what she's trying to recreate now, a year and a bit later, with a series of expensive light bulbs. 'White light,' the packaging promised. She fits them one by one throughout the house, and unbeknown to her, choreographs the slow dance of light-over-puddle in the passageway. — Laia Jufresa

When life fucks you over, you don't slow down. You just keep going, keep moving, eyes peeled for the next opportunity, the next dance. Don't get bogged down in the endings or the parts where you know you're fucked even before you get there. Bluff, baby. Bluff until they all fold or until you start to believe it yourself. If you fail, get up and bluff again. — Heidi Cullinan

The battle fever. He had never thought to experience it himself, though Jamie had told him of it often enough. How time seemed to blur and slow and evenstop, how the past and the future vanished until there was nothing but the instant, how fear fled, and thought fled, and even you body. "You don't feel your wounds then, or the ache in your back from the weight of the armor, or the sweat running down into your eyes. You stop feeling you stop thinking, you stop being you, there is only the fight , the foe, this man and then the next and the next and the next, and you know they are afraid and tired but you're not, you're alive, and death is all around you but their swords move so slowly, you can dance through them laughing." Battle fever. I am half a man and drunk with slaughter, let them kill me if they can! — George R R Martin

A half-open window.
Morning-fresh air carries
curious sunlight into a bedroom.
Flecks of dust shimmer yellow-gold.
Four feet, entwined under white sheets.
Joni's Blue, on the player.
Delicate curtains slow-dance
to Sunday's tune.
Laughter.
Talk of: what for breakfast?
Anything. Anything at all. — Nick Miller

She studied me with concern. She touched the new streak of gray in my hair that matched hers exactly - our painful souvenir from holding Atlas's burden. There was a lot I'd wanted to say to Annabeth, but Athena had taken the confidence out of me. I felt like I'd been punched in the gut.
I do not approve of your friendship with my daughter.
"So," Annabeth said. "What did you want to tell me earlier?"
The music was playing. People were dancing in the streets. I said, "I, uh, was thinking we got interrupted at Westover Hall. And ... I think I owe you a dance."
She smiled slowly. "All right, Seaweed Brain."
So I took her hand, and I don't know what everybody else heard, but to me it sounded like a slow dance: a little sad, but maybe a little hopeful, too. — Rick Riordan

and tonight we held each
other, one last time,
like a dance to a
slow song
on an empty
floor,
underneath a single
disco ball
in front of
no one
at all — Phil Volatile

Centuries of perfectly-pitched heartbreak resound through Les' microphone as Stella and I embrace in a slow dance. — Daven Anderson

With the way all the girls are looking at you, I might never get my chance.' I glanced behind us. 'Heck, even that big boy in the blue suit over there is watching you like candy.'
'It's possible I might've offered him a slow dance. — Jenny B. Jones

Tate's kiss ...
There was no describing it.
It didn't start slow, it started hard and wet and so demanding I had no choice but to give back what I got. And I did. Our tongues sparred then our teeth bit at each other's lips and our heads twisted this way and that, all of it a mindless, sexy dance that was all-consuming. There was nothing but his mouth and my mouth, what they were doing and what they were making me feel. Nothing. Not in the whole universe. — Kristen Ashley

You're a dumb shit. There's a million first girls for a million different first things.
There's the first girl you slow-dance with, and the first girl you go to bed with. There's the first girl to give you a kiss, and then the first one you take home to mama." His amber eyes lit up with humor.
"There's the first girl you fight with and the first girl you fight for. There's also the first girl you have to let go of. There's the first girl you love, obviously, and the first girl to break your heart.
There's always a first girl, Rowdy, but there is also the girl that is going to come after her until you get to the last girl.
The last girl is the one that really matters. — Jay Crownover

He was what she wanted, but it would mean so much more after a charged friendship; that long, exquisite exchange of gradually more intimate confidences, the slow accumulation of shared experiences, the languorous spiraling dance of attraction, coming and going and coming and going, winding closer and closer, until that laziness was sublimed in the engulfing heat of consummation. He — Iain M. Banks

Swore he told us not to slow dance with our skeletons. — Sherman Alexie

But the soul of Africa, its integrity, the slow inexorable pulse of its life, is its own and of such singular rhythm that no outsider, unless steeped from childhood in its endless, even beat, can ever hope to experience it, except only as a bystander might experience a Masai war dance knowing nothing of its music nor the meaning of its steps. — Beryl Markham

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

Viewing movies in very slow motion, looking for synchrony, one realizes that what we know as dance is really a slowed-down, stylized version of what human beings do whenever they interact. — Edward T. Hall

Let me see you do the 'rag time dance' ...
Turn left and do the 'Cake walk prance' ...
Turn the other way and do the 'Slow drag' ...
Now take your lady to the world's fair ( ... )
And do the 'rag time dance.' — Scott Joplin

Time passes and I am still not through it. Grief isn't something you get over. You live with it. You go on on with it lodged in you. Sometimes I feel like I have swallowed a pile of stones. Grief makes me heavy. It makes me slow. Even on days when I laugh a lot, or dance, or finish a project, or meet a deadline, or celebrate, or make love, it is there. Lodged deep inside of me. — Ann Hood

Beck behaved himself, though it was really difficult, especially during the slow dances when they were so tantalizingly close. He savoured the feel of her against his body, the light scent of her perfume, the in her eyes that told him he was the center of her universe. It was a new and totally overwhelming experience. — Jana Oliver

There are some who say that Time is itself a hammer; that each slow second marks another tap that makes big rocks into little rocks, waterfalls into canyons, cliffs into beaches.
There are some who say that Time is instead a blade. They see the dance of its razored tip, poised like a venomous snake, forever ready to slay faster than the eye can see.
And there are some who say that Time is both hammer and blade.
They say the hammer is a sculptor's mallet, and the blade is a sculptor's chisel: that each stroke is a refinement, a perfecting, a discovery of truth and beauty within what would otherwise be blank and lifeless stone.
And I name this saying wisdom. — Matthew Woodring Stover

I don't want to hide. I want to slow dance with you again. I want to dance with you forever. — Sarah Black

My progression into acting was pretty slow. I was constantly performing in different kinds of small shows. One year I would be in a magic show, the next year in a circus show, then a small play, and then a dance show. — Roberto Aguire

Music is great; it all depends on what mood you're in, what you want to listen to. If it's party time, you listen to, you know, party music, if you want to dance with somebody. But then again, if it's a slow dance, you need something slow. — Tom Jones