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“You'll be back within the hour?" she said. "For the opening dance?" "Really, Azalea," said the King, putting on his stiff hat. "Is everything about dancing to you?" "It was, actually, but Azalea decided now wasn't the best time to point that out.”
Heather Dixon“You'll be back within the hour?" she said. "For the opening dance?" "Really, Azalea," said the King, putting on his stiff hat. "Is everything about dancing to you?" "It was, actually, but Azalea decided now wasn't the best time to point that out.”
Heather Dixon, Entwined“I visit my assistant mistress. "Well, Azalea," I say, sitting in the best chair, "what has happened to you since my last visit?" Azalea tells me what happened to her. She has covered a sofa, and written a novel. Jack has behaved badly. Roger has lost his job (replaced by an electric eye). Gigi's children are in the hospital being detoxified, all three. Azalea herself is dying of love. I stroke her buttocks, which are perfection, if you can have perfection, under the capitalistic system. "It is better to marry that to burn," St. Paul says, but St. Paul is largely discredited now, for the toughness of his views does not accord with the experience of advanced industrial societies.”
Donald Barthelme, Sixty Stories“He was shockingly easy to follow. The pressure of his hand, the step of his foot, the angle of his frame... it was like reading his mind. When he leaned right, they turned in perfect unison. He swept her across the gallery in a quick three, a dizzying pace. Gilded frames and glass cases and the window blurred in her vision, and Azalea spun out, her skirts pulling and poofing around her, before he caught her and brought her back into dance position. She could almost hear music playing, swelling inside of her.Mother had once told her about this perfect twining into one. She called it interweave, and said it was hard to do, for it took the perfect matching of the partners’ strengths to overshadow each other’s weaknesses, meshing into one glorious dance. Azalea felt the giddiness of being locked in not a pairing, but a dance. So starkly different than dancing with Keeper. Never that horrid feeling that she owed him something; no holding her breath, wishing for the dance to end. Now, spinning from Mr. Bradford’s hand, her eyes closed, spinning back and feeling him catch her, she felt the thrill of the dance, of being matched, flow through her.”Heavens, you’re good!” said Azalea, breathless.”You’re stupendous,” said Mr. Bradford, just as breathless. “It’s like dancing with a top!”
Heather Dixon, Entwined“Ah, Azalea," said the King. "He's not going to be the one proposing."."Sorry?" she said.. The Delchastrian queen had to propose-""I will do no such thing!" said Azalea.”
Heather Dixon, Entwined“Honestly, we don't kick or bite or throw potatoes at all our guests."A crooked smile touched Lord Bradford's lips."Your family has spirit," he said, taking his hat from Azalea. "I enjoyed the evening.""Well, yes, you've just come from a war," said Azalea.”
Heather Dixon, Entwined“I always say: 'Share your happiness with the world, give other people that happiness and let it come back,' but some things make me question it. I don't know if I want some people to know that I am happy. I think a lot of people want to take it away from you, and that's really scary.”
Iggy Azalea“I was a kid watching music videos, which were so cool and made me want to learn how to dance. I wish I could've gone to dance classes and learn, like, hip-hop dancing.”
Iggy Azalea“This twisted cat and mouse game always starts the sameFirst we're both down to play and somehow you go astray”
Iggy Azalea“He's around the twist,' said Azalea. 'Breaking all the windows? He's mad.' to break all the windows in the house and drown yourself in a bucket but don't actually do it, well, that's love.”
Heather Dixon, Entwined“Comely was the town by the curving river that they dismantled in a year's time. Beautiful was Colleton in her last spring as she flung azaleas like a girl throwing rice at a desperate wedding. In dazzling profusion, Colleton ripened in a gauze of sweet gardens and the town ached beneath a canopy of promissory fragrance.”
Pat Conroy, The Prince of Tides