I remember when I was doing a film with Fred Astaire,
it was nothing for him to work three or four days on two bars of music.
One evening in the dark grey hours of dusk,
I was walking across the deserted MGM lot when a small, weary figure
with a towel around his neck suddenly appeared out of the giant cube sound stages.
It was Fred.
He came over to me, threw a heavy arm around my shoulder and said:
"Oh Alan, why doesn't someone tell me I cannot dance?"
The tormented illogic of his question made any answer insipid,
and all I could do was walk with him in silence.
Alan Jay Lerner, On the Street Where I Live
