A ballet, like every work of art, has what may be called a “life” or “time-body,” that something which remains a unity or whole, under all changes of condition, approach and fashion—the “Linga-Sharira” of Hindu philosophy.

In his interesting book “This Thing Called Ballet,” George Borodin touches the fringe of this idea when he points out that there is no system of dance notation comparable to that of music; none capable of recording with exactness the intricate movements and rhythms of modern ballet. As the reproduction and revival of works depend almost entirely upon the memory of choreographers and individual artists, “even often repeated ballets are in a constant state of change … From generation to generation there are minute changes until the whole is subtly and fundamentally altered.” These changes include, of course, differences in casting, orchestral direction, renewal of décor and costumes, with other elements too numerous to mention. Even one performance is never precisely the same as another. In short, the balletomane finds himself in the not very congenial company of the “weeping philosopher,” Heraclitus. “You cannot step twice,” he said, “into the same river; for the water into which you first stepped will by now have flowed on, and other water will have taken its place.” Is it the same river? The same ballet?