“We caught the tread of dancing feet,We loitered down the moonlit street,And stopped beneath the harlot's house.Inside, above the din and fray,We heard the loud musicians playThe 'Treues Liebes Herz' of Strauss.Like strange mechanical grotesques,Making fantastic arabesques,The shadows raced across the blind.We watched the ghostly dancers spinTo sound of horn and violin,Like black leaves wheeling in the wind.Like wire-pulled automatons,Slim silhouetted skeletonsWent sidling through the slow quadrille,Then took each other by the hand,And danced a stately saraband;Their laughter echoed thin and shrill. Sometimes a clockwork puppet pressedA phantom lover to her breast,Sometimes they seemed to try to sing.Sometimes a horrible marionetteCame out, and smoked its cigaretteUpon the steps like a live thing.Then, turning to my love, I said,'The dead are dancing with the dead,The dust is whirling with the dust.'But she--she heard the violin,And left my side, and entered in:Love passed into the house of lust.Then suddenly the tune went false,The dancers wearied of the waltz,The shadows ceased to wheel and whirl.And down the long and silent street,The dawn, with silver-sandalled feet,Crept like a frightened girl.”

“Down the long and silent street, The dawn, with silver-sandaled feet,Crept like a frightened girl.”

“They watched storms out there so distant they could not be heard, the silent lightning flaring sheetwise and the thin black spine of the mountain chain fluttering and sucked away again in the dark. They saw wild horses racing on the plain, pounding their shadows down the night and- leaving in the moonlight a vaporous dust like the palest stain of their passing.”

“I think you are seriously overestimating my dancing abilities. My kind of dancing usually ends up on the Internet, where people watch it so they can stop feeling sorry about their own lives. You know how people say they have two left feet? It's like I have no feet and my stumps are attached to wheels shaped like triangles.”

“Luke!...We have to be able to do cool dancing so we don't embarrass our child!""I'm a very cool dancer," replies Luke. "Very cool indeed,""No you're not!""I had dance lessons in my teens, you know," he retorts. "I can waltz like Fred Astire.""Waltz?" I echo derisively. "That's not cool! We need to know all the street moves. Watch me."I do a couple funky head-wriggle body-pop maneuvers, like they do on rap videos. When I look up, Luke is gaping at me."Sweetheart," he says. "What are you doing?""It's hip-hop!" I say. "It's street!""Becky! Love!" Mum has pushed her way through her dancing guests to reach me. "What's wrong? Has labour started?"Honestly. My family has no idea about contemporary urban steet dance trends.”

“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.”