Best 213 of Lesbian quotes - MyQuotes
And she did not have to ask if this was right, no one had to tell her, because this could not have been more right or perfect.
Girls love each other like animals. There is something ferocious and unself-conscious about it. We don't guard ourselves like we do with boys. No one trains us to shield our hearts from each other. With girls, it's total vulnerability from the beginning. Our skin is bare and soft. We love with claws and teeth and the blood is just proof of how much. It's feral. And it's relentless.
When selecting a one-night stand, a heterosexual woman who is materialistic is a trillion times more likely to choose a sexually unattractive poor man who seems rich over a sexually attractive rich man who seems poor.
R. Ys Perez
I want to love like my grandmother, who loved a woman like Joseph loved Mary. Someone so imperfect, so human, brave enough to love someone who already knows God.
Angel grabbed Jana by the waist, kissing her with gentle ease. They moved on to the bedroom and Angel pushed Jana to the bed as they kept kissing with passion. Their tongues intertwined together, feeling the mist of each other. Grinding their hips together and fondling each other's breasts with their clothes on, as each feeling the pace of their breaths together and they kept going in motion together. They both squirmed beneath each other. When Angel placed her hands outside of Jana's jeans, she felt the wetness soak through. Jana was repeating the act, as the both kept kissing in intensity. They rubbed each other in between the legs and both let out deep moans in between kisses. They tried not to holler each other's names into the air, as Angel felt Jana's wetness soak even more. That was when they both stopped and looked at one another in the eyes. "That was amazing," they said at the same time. They both giggled, and Angel rolled off of Jana with a sweet sigh as did Jana. Angel lifted up on her shoulder. "I know that wasn't actual sex,” she started. “But that was wonderful in so many ways. Jana, you are amazing in more ways than one." Jana smiled at Angel looking into her eyes.
She's that bad boy you want, but in a girl who believes in recycling. Freud described the kinds of feelings I had for Amy as loving the same person twice, as a woman and as a man.
Everyone knew that girls who admitted to liking girls stopped being whatever they were before and became a cross between a lumberjack and a punk-goth-anarchist. - Adena Galinksy, USA (p. 38)
But thats their image of us so we stay tense, holding our breath, hoping we wont be found out. - about being gay from the film Love My Life
First time I got the full sight of Shug Avery long black body with it black plum nipples, look like her mouth, I thought I had turned into a man
Angel slowly closed her door then sighed as she leaned against it feeling the sudden loss of her new love leaving for a while which they forgot to exchange on, and they have a positive outcome. Soon as Angel got up from the door, her doorbell rang she was hoping it was just Jana coming back again for something else, but when she looked at the peephole she saw it was Scarlett so she sighed and unlocked her door saying, "What do you need Scarlett? We broke up a long time ago." Scarlett pushed Angel inside, and they both landed on the couch as Scarlett kissed her long and hard as Angel try to shove her off then once she pushed her off saying, "What do you want Scarlett?" Scarlett gave a sweet smile replying, "I want you back of course baby, you are my world I realize that." Angel shoved her out of the apartment replying, "Get the heck out of here and never come back, you found love in someone else and so have I, so get out, GET OUT!
Therese leaned closer toward it, looking down at her glass. She wanted to thrust the table aside and spring into her arms, to bury her nose in the green and gold scarf that was tied close about her neck. Once the backs of their hands brushed on the table, and Therese’s skin there felt separately alive now, and rather burning.
[A]t least since the late nineteenth century when the primary role in categorising sexual behaviour and naming what is ‘normal’ and what is ‘perverse’ passed, in most industrial societies, from the religious to the medical and scientific professions, we have lived with the notion of distinct categories of people labelled ‘homosexual’ and ‘heterosexual’. (The category ‘homosexual’ was coined by the Viennese writer Karol Benkert in 1869, ‘heterosexual’ emerging somewhat later.) Since that time, new discourses have tried to establish the male ‘homosexual’ as a distinct type of person - as opposed to same-sex attraction or same-sex acts being seen as a potential in everyone. As Peter Tatchell [‘It’s Just a Phase: Why Homosexuality is Doomed’, in Simpson (ed.), Anti-Gay, London: Cassell. 1996] puts it, ‘prior to that time … there were only homosexual acts, not homosexual people … [For] the medieval Catholic Church … homosexuality was not … the special sin of a unique class of people but a dangerous temptation to which any mortal might succumb. This doctrine implicitly conceded the attractiveness of same-sex desire, and unwittingly acknowledged its pervasive, universal potential
Any degree of concern with someone else’s sex life is too much, unless they are your dependent, or you are or want to be part of it.
Do people always fall in love with things they can't have?' 'Always,' Carol said, smiling, too.
Welcome back, my queen," she said, and dark eyes shining, Hades saved me.
Riley said. “Two women being in love, isn’t that an abomination?” “True love in any form is always encouraged,” Priest said. She looked at Riley. “You’re in love with her?” Riley said, “Yeah. Head over heels.” Priest smiled. “I’m happy to hear it. You deserve some happiness.
Rosaria Champagne Butterfield
Slowly, but steadily, my feelings did start to change- feelings about myself as a woman and feelings about what sexuality really is and what it really isn't. I -like most everyone who identified as gay or lesbian -felt very comfortable, very at home in mu body in my lesbianism. One doesn't repent for a sin of identity in one session. Sins of identity have multiple dimensions, and throughout this journey, I have come to my pastor and his wife, friends in the Lord, and always to the Lord himself with different facets of my sin. I don't mean different incidents or examples of the same sin, but different facets of sin -how pride, for example, informed my decision-making, or how my unwillingness to forgive others had landlocked my heart in bitterness. I have walked this journey with help. There is no other way to do it I still walk this journey with help.
Natalie Clifford Barney
When she lowers her eyes she seems to hold all the beauty in the world between her eyelids; when she raises them I see only myself in her gaze.
...I don't want you to live a miserable life, which you'll end up doing if you're constantly lying to yourself and everyone else about who you really are and what you really want.
I'm keeping my promise, I'm coming home. To her.
When reason and passion battle, passion often wins.
Either you are homophobic or you are a human - you cannot be both.
It's uncommon, far from unheard of. The elves and the angels have done it since the dawn of time, penning great epics of beautiful women loving beautiful women. No need for shame, little angel. You are full of surprises." Tears did leak from Flowridia's eyes, but of relief. No more fear.
Nobody taught me to be like this. I was born this way. Since I opened my eyes to the world, I have never slept with a man. Never. Just imagine what purity. I have nothing to be ashamed of. 
That was her last rational thought. She gave herself up to Cam completely, feasting on her. She couldn't get enough of her.
yet she could not resist sometimes yielding to the charm of a woman, not a girl, of a woman confessing, as to her they often did, some scrape, some folly. And whether it was pity, or their beauty, or that she was older, or some accident-like a faint scent, or a violin next door (so strange is the power of sounds at certain moments), she did undoubtedly then feel what men felt.
Many things as we have constructed them can be redefined and are neither correct nor incorrect. I love making love to a woman. I love her every quiver, her every movement, her every moan, her every breath. I love the journey my hands make over her every soft curve, the smell of her skin, and I revel in the feminine beauty, unmatched by anything else on this earth. But the core connection is what matters most and, while I don’t know what draws me to the essence of women rather than men or both, I wanted to be swallowed up by exactly that – the mystery of why we don’t want to be without each other.
If cheese was a woman, I'd marry her. I'd come home and eat her every night.
As a psychiatrist, I have learned to tell my patients who are dealing with significant life conflicts to simplify the decision-making process. We have only three options: change it, put up with it, or get out. In most cases one of those three options can be eliminated immediately. Since attraction to someone of the same sex is not going to change, a married man [or woman] is only left with suffering through it or getting out.
If my God damns people for love but saves them for brutle warfare, then that is not the God I know or wish to worship.
Dan: 'Ah, well, I hope this didn't have anything to do with me.' Ellen: 'No, not unless you played Cat Woman in Batman.
He who is jealous is better off not dating someone who is bisexual.
Does it go away?" she asks. "Missing each other?" I think about how much I missed Maman. I still do, though it isn´t as acute as it once was. "A little bit," I whisper. "Enough so that life continues. In a year you won´t even think about me. " She turns around in my arms and looks up at me, tugging at a strand of my hair. "don´t say stupid things, Sahar. You´re smarter than that.
So when I let my head fall back under Sarah’s kiss, the frenzy I trembled at just wasn’t there. Instead, comfort and joy and simplicity and order and answers to questions I’d always supposed unanswerable, such as, why was I born? why a woman? why here? why now? A wonderful glowing spacious peacefulness came to us. There was so much time.
Many a woman secretly has a crush on a man who secretly has a crush on her man.
Was it love or wasn't it that she felt for Carol? And how absurd it was that she didn't even know. She had heard about girls falling in love, and she knew what kind of people they were and what they looked like. Neither she nor Carol looked like that. Yet the way she felt about Carol passed all the tests for love and fitted all the descriptions.
You saved my life, Persephone." "I didn't..." "You are, even now.
We are having hot lesbian sex... and by sex we mean tea but it's still hot.
I couldn’t help wondering if she was gay. She was doing a good imitation of flirting, but perhaps it was just a ploy to keep me docile.
I had loved and lost, and now... Love had found me again, brought me back to life in the land of the dead.
Maya repeated the achingly slow process with the remote control in reverse, and in the profound quiet that ensued, looked at Leyla. ‘Why are you doing this to me?’ Yasmin turned on her mother. ‘She’s not doing anything, she is gay. It’s not a choice. So I think, actually, that you should be telling us why you have such a problem with it.
She used to place her pretty arms about my neck, draw me to her, and laying her cheek to mine, murmur with her lips near my ear, “Dearest, your little heart is wounded; think me not cruel because I obey the irresistible law of my strength and weakness; if your dear heart is wounded, my wild heart bleeds with yours. In the rapture of my enormous humiliation I live in your warm life, and you shall die—die, sweetly die—into mine. I cannot help it; as I draw near to you, you, in your turn, will draw near to others, and learn the rapture of that cruelty, which yet is love; so, for a while, seek to know no more of me and mine, but trust me with all your loving spirit.” And when she had spoken such a rhapsody, she would press me more closely in her trembling embrace, and her lips in soft kisses gently glow upon my cheek.
God's truth!' one side shouts. 'More loving!' comes the response. 'God's truth!' 'More loving!' 'God's truth!' 'More loving!' But there shouldn't be a clash between 'God's truth' and 'More loving.' In the Bible, Truth and Love are two sides of the same coin. You can't have one without the other. God's Truth is all about God's Love for us and the Love we ought to have for one another. We are being untrue to that Truth if we treat people unlovingly. And we are missing out on the full extent of that Love if we try to divorce it from Ultimate Truth.
The world could use more love. Why deny it to others?
I consider you mine, because Donna considered you hers.
I was so used to pretending to be something I wasn't, it shocked me to be seen for what I was.
It's morning now, and I miss the soft rasp of her voice already. Ugh. I'm in trouble, aren't I?
She sometimes talked about how liking girls is political and revolutionary and counter-cultural, all these names and terms that I didn’t even know that I was supposed to know, and a bunch of other things I didn’t really understand and I’m not sure that she did then, either—though she’d never have let on. I hadn’t ever really thought about any of that stuff. I just liked girls because I couldn’t help not to. I’d certainly never considered that someday my feelings might grant me access to a community of like-minded women.
Perhaps one of these days she'd surprise herself and not actually do the thing that was right and proper and best for all concerned. And probably give herself heart failure from the shock.
Cam knew that if she succeeded, it was going to destroy her, but she could worry about that later. All she had to do at the moment was cut her own heart out without letting the wound show too much; she'd have plenty of time to bleed after Alex had gone.