Best 205 quotes in «lesbian quotes» category

They were Catholic, my lovers, All in an access of crossing themselves, Particularly their fingers Behind their suspendered backs-- And that was the women.

Too much beauty can be hard to bear.

True same-sex love is trillions of times stronger than homophobia.

To those who are gay, lesbian, bisexual,or transgender-let me say- you are not alone. You're struggle, for the end to violence and discrimination, is a shared struggle. Today, I stand with you. And I call upon all countries and people, to stand with you too. A historic shift is underway. We must tackle the violence, decriminalize consensual same sex relationships and end discrimination. We must educate the public. I call on this council and people of conscience to make this happen. The time has come.

To write, for a lesbian, is to learn to take down the patriarchal posters in her room. It means learning to live with bare walls for a while. It means learning how not to be afraid of the ghosts which assume the color of the bare wall.

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.

Trust was the sexual clincher for Dolores Alexander, the once-married early NOW member from chapter 3. "Once I had had sex with a woman," says Alexander "it was mind-blowing, it was so much better than with men. [My sexuality] just never became a question, I just stayed there. The issue was trust. I felt I could trust women so much more than I could ever trust a man. You are dealing on a truly peer level with women and you are not with men - or at least I wasn't.

Weight gains aren't failures – they're learning curves.

We are having hot lesbian sex... and by sex we mean tea but it's still hot.

When there was a choice between love of a woman and hate of a man, her mind could cherish only one emotion, for her love might be a subject for laughter, but no one ever had ever mocked her hatred.

When these flies were put together in all-male groups they formed long, moving chains resembling conga lines, with each male attempting (unsuccessfully) to mate with the male in front of it.

Welcome back, my queen," she said, and dark eyes shining, Hades saved me.

We Lesbian Avengers have built this shrine. It stands for our fear. It stands for our grief. It stands for our rage. And it enshrines our intention to live fully and completely as who we are, wherever we are. We take the fire of action into our hearts. And we take it into our bodies. And we stand, here and now, to make it known that we are here, and here we will stay. Our fear does not consume us. Their fire will not consume us. We take that fire, and we make it our own.

We're queer, but music doesn't have a sexuality. Even if it was more clearly written to women, I still think that music is still just music.

...we touched each other's center, perfectly, just the fingertip upon the clitoris moving more and more slowly, our eyes steady on each other and the delicate pressure fine and more fine until all motion stopped in one still point remembered always, a vision. And then I did not know her pleasure from mine, my body from hers. We fell into and became each other. Then we slipped over the edge, entered and made love.

We were in a state of suspended animation: Oblivious to the world around us, time seemingly standing still, and our perceptions focused only on a couple specific parts of our anatomy. In fact, only one part. My tongue seemed numb, but the feeling in my core was building in an incredible crescendo. Finally, my orgasm exploded. I heard myself scream, as if from another dimension. My head became light, and I thought I would pass out.

What does love mean if we would deny it to others?

What matters most is not 'what' you are, but 'who' you are.

When reason and passion battle, passion often wins.

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.

While there is no shame in being gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or intersex - or even straight (but not narrow) - there is most certainly shame and dishonor in being a homophobe, a transphobe and a bigot.

Woman-identification is a source of energy, a potential springhead of female power, violently curtailed and wasted under the institution of heterosexuality. The denial of reality and visibility to women’s passion for women, women’s choice of women as allies, life companions, and community; the forcing of such relationships into dissimulation and their disintegration under intense pressure, have meant an incalculable loss to the power of all women to change the social relations of the sexes to liberate ourselves and each other. The lie of compulsory female heterosexuality today admits not just feminist scholarship, but every profession, every reference work, every curriculum, every organizing attempt, every relationship or conversation over which it hovers. It creates, specifically, a profound falseness, hypocrisy, and hysteria in the heterosexual dialogue, for every heterosexual relationship is lived in the queasy strobe-light of that lie. However we choose to identify ourselves, however we find ourselves labeled, it flickers across and distorts our lives.

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.

you asked me if I believed in eternal love. Love is something way too abstract and indefinable. It depends on what we perceive and what we experience. If we don't exist, it doesn't exist. And we change so much; love must change as well.

You can't have a vocation of No

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.

Why does it matter if people think you’re beautiful?” Kali insisted. Grabbing her girlfriend’s hands, she pressed a red-staining kiss to the pale knuckles. “I love you and we’re going to prom together and I think you’re gorgeous.

You see, that’s the thing about a girl, Her kisses leave you breathless Her eyes become your world But it never seems to matter where she stops, lingers or starts She’ll sometimes revive it, sometimes break it, but she will always steal your heart

You saved my life, Persephone." "I didn't..." "You are, even now.

You really are exotic, for boys in my country, they do not have such pectorals. I like yours.

You see, I have been content with the darkness. But then you came, with your fire. And you reminded me about the stars, shining in the dark, never wavering.

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.

Acknowledging that my biological imperative may not include the drive to procreate, that I just might be attracted to XX chromosomes instead of XY? That's so stupid-minor in comparison to the fact that I might actually be in love for the first time in my life. It's with a girl...so what? Lesbian, bisexual, whatever! Thus isn't about categorisation or chromosomes. This is about how I feel about another person.

A female magician named Catherine Trianon, who lived together 'as man and wife' with another cunning-woman, was described as having more learning 'in the tip of her finger' than others acquired in a lifetime. When her house was searched in 1680 twenty-five manuscript volumes on the occult sciences were found.

And you, Persephone... You were foretold, too. I never wanted anything-" her mouth moved softly, gently over my skin "-until I wanted you.

[Adrienne Rich] was one of the only major intellectuals since Freud to assert that homosexuality was anything other than a problem. She is also notable for describing a continuum, like Kinesey's, of lesbian love - a continuum that begins with the intimacy of a mother nursing her daughter and ends with a nurturing, egalitarian love relationship between two women. While this theory eventually contributed to the stifling stereotype that lesbians only cuddle and nuzzle in bed, supporting each other and drinking chamomile tea, Rich was savvy to link same-sex love - so taboo, so unnatural - with a role for women seen as unassailable: being a mother.

All of this to say that when my mother was finally convinced I hadn't been raped into lesbianism, she said Oh well you just haven't found the right man

Always respond with kindness, my love," she would say with a sympathetic smile. "Why would I? They're horrible." "Because otherwise, they've won." I knew she was right

Amazing how eye and skin color come in many shades yet many think sexuality is just gay or straight.

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!

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.

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.

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.

As we chatted, cracking the expected jokes at Danita’s expense, I thought about how Danita let her search for the real her take a physical shape while mine seemed to be taking a more internal shape. At least with my exploration, I didn’t have to worry about how I’m going to pay for it, since just like cosmetic surgery isn’t covered by most insurance plans,neither is searching for your true sexuality.

At any rate, Therese thought, she was happier than she ever had been before. And why worry about defining everything?

A text by a minority writer is effective only if it succeeds in making the minority point of view universal. ('The Universal and the Particular')" ... In claiming the lesbian point of view as universal, she overturns the concepts to which we are accustomed. For up to this point, minority writers had to add "the universal" to their points of view if they wished to attain the unquestioned universality of the dominant class. Gay men, for example, have always defined themselves as a minority and never questioned, despite their transgression, the dominant choice. This is why gay culture has always had a fairly wide audience. [From the Foreword "Changing the Point of View" by Louise Turcotte]

[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

AVA God you are a delight you have delivered what I like heaven delivers a gift with lips heaven delivers a gift with hips God you delivered what I like oh God you are in the spotlight

A woman in love with another woman is revolution’s revolution: it is not an act of war. it is not an act of desperation. it is not an act of fear. it is - it always has been and it always, always will be - an act of love.

Back to reality, after a brief but pleasant dream.