Best 2888 quotes in «gay quotes» category

So why do it?,’ he challenged. ‘Why return to biological when a quantum existence can empower you to overcome general relativity and become interstellar, intergalactic, intersupercluster, inter-whateverthef*ckyoulike?’ ‘Because once you’ve seen one Laniakea you’ve seen them all? I don’t know. Any number of reasons! Lament? They prefer squishy? The sex is better?

Stupid arbitrary shit means it will take a movie star to die and a hemophiliac teenager to die before ordinary people start to mobilize, start to feel that the disease needs to be stopped. Tens of thousands of people will die before drugs are made and drugs are approved. What a horrible feeling that is, to know that if the disease had primarily affected PTA presidents, or priests, or white teenage girls, the epidemic would have been ended years earlier, and tens of thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of lives would have been saved

Swag is not something you wear, it is something you are born with.

Take this fucking thing off me!" he demanded. "Good morning to you too, Nick," Damian said mildly. He unlocked the door without haste and went to his office, Nick dogging his every footstep. "Did you --?" "I didn't touch it or myself. Take it off right now!" Nick said angrily. Damian sat down and motioned Nick closer. "We're going to have to have a talk about topping from the bottom. I don't allow that, pet.

Tam let his hand drop to his neck and slowly circled his fingers around it. It was a free, gentle touch and Casen knew that if he asked him not to, he would remove his hand and nothing would change. He couldn't get the words out; it wasn't the touch he had a problem with, it was the far away look in Tam's eyes that said he wasn't in the room anymore. The look that suggested he was lying on the ground, as the rain fell in buckets and a stranger knelt over him, trying to keep him awake. Casen blinked and looked away, as the urge to cry for that lost look threatened.

Tam looked scared, swallowing and wrapping his hands around Casen's. He slowly cupped his wrists and pulled his hands away. Then he turned to the door and unlocked it. Casen expected to have it shut in his face or be told that he'd crossed a line. After all, he didn't know Tam and he'd stupidly given him an ultimatum after meeting just a few hours ago. What had he been thinking? “Are you coming in?” Tam asked quietly, staring at his hands as he twirled his key. Casen crossed the threshold and reminded himself he was lucky; he could so easily have been turned away. Yet, when he turned to apologise for presuming too much, Tam was right in front of him and the door was closed. Before he could ask what was running through his head, Tam cupped his face, lightly caressing his cheek. It was soft and tender, identical to the look in his eyes. It was too much; Casen closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, tentatively raising his own hand to hold Tam there. It wasn't a kiss, but it was damned close.

Tam let out a ragged breath, as he fought to reign his emotions back, while the realisation sank in. He was nothing. To Konnor. To Giovanni. To everyone. He was invisible.

Tell me something good about your life," I whispered, needing to hear that he wasn't as broken as I thought him to be. Peter breathed into the handset for about two minutes. I began wondering if he was about to hang up, or had fallen asleep, when he answered. "You." It was so quiet I almost didn't hear it. And then he hung up before I could ask him to repeat himself. I fell asleep, grinning, with the phone still clutched in my hand and my milk souring on the coffee table.

Terror doesn't change people from gay to straight. It just hurts innocent people.

The eye of youth is very observant. Youth has its moments of keen intuition, even normal youth -- but the intuition of those who stand mi-way between the sexes is so ruthless, so poignant, so deadly, as to be in the nature of an added scourge...

That's just like the manual says," said Witherwax. "If we want to have international brotherhood, we gotta get a language that everybody understands all the time." "You mean with no homonyms?" said Doc Brenner. Mr. Gross belched again, and held up two fingers to indicate another Boilermaker. "Are you saying that the language a fella speaks can make a fairy of him?" ("Gin Comes In Bottles")

That was the moment when I knew I was in real trouble, that I might really be the kind of person you weren’t supposed to be.

That was the day I knew. It was as if Rolls met Royce, Black met Decker, Oliver met Stan, TinTin met Snowy, Marks met Spencer... he was to me what Patracolus was to Achilles, Hylas to Hercules, Enkidoe to Gilgamesh, Jonathan to David, Bosie to Oscar Wilde, Rimbaud to Verlaine. He was my Billy Budd, all the holy multitude of Thebes, Jasjoe mixed with Tadzio...

The Church's obsession with sexual restrictions is and always has been wrong wrong wrong. Wrong to be contemptuous of naïve young women like Philomena and me. Wrong to ignore the men involved in creating "illegitimate" children. Wrong to demonize gays while knowing full well how many men and women of the Church are gay. Wrong to excuse and hide criminal priests, transferring them to new, unsuspecting parishes. Wrong to think that forbidding consensual human sexuality is more important than Christ's message of compassion and forgiveness.

The conservative ideology sees LGBT rights as an affront to the traditional way of life, for some reason. We are attacked as phonies, pretenders, even perverts, just for being who we are. There are people who wish for us to go back into the shadows, the closet, never to return. Many of these people who wish to deny us our very legitimacy, who denounce us as mentally ill deviants, spend an hour each week paying homage to an ever-present, yet non-interventionist man in the sky. They go to courts across the land to defend their right to praise that uncorroborated deity at the expense of other people’s civil liberties. To them, we the living, the transgender people who walk the earth, are fake, but the man up there, He is real.

The gay revolution began as a literary revolution.

That a man’s partner and exes are all female does not necessarily mean that he is straight.

The city was new again, and newly dangerous, and I would walk the streets quickly, eyes averted from those of passersby, like a spy in the employ of lust and happiness, carrying the secret deep within me but always on the tip of my tongue.

The damaging part of learning to live your life in two parts , whether in reality or fantasy, cannot be underestimated. It is an infectious skill that you learned, one that would eventually spread beyond the bedroom of your life. Life wasn't ever what it seemed on the surface. Nothing could be trusted for what it appeared to be. After all, you weren't what you appeared to be. In learning to hide part of yourself, you lost the ability to trust anything or anyone fully. Without knowing it, you traded humane innocence for dry cynicism.

The Flight of Providence To do what is right, we try Against the odds, we try You are not like us, they say Stand down We fight, and only God knows For our right to exist For the truth We are manifest for this hour We will not be silent You are not like us, they say Stand down We fight, and only God knows For our right to try For our right to know We are the human race We will not be silent You are not like us, they say Stand down We fight, and only God knows For the truth For our future We are brilliant shades of light We cannot be contained

The Gay' is not infectious, the world is not coming to an end, and people are happy. Gosh, how about that.

The great liberal betrayal of this generation is that in the name of liberalism, communal rights have been prioritized over individual autonomy within minority groups. And minorities within minorities really do suffer because of this betrayal. The people I really worry about when we have this conversation are feminist Muslims, gay Muslims, ex-Muslims—all the vulnerable and bullied individuals who are not just stigmatized but in many cases violently assaulted or killed merely for being against the norm.

The historical record demonstrates that, on the contrary, many homosexuals chose heterosexuality and failed to maintain it because choice is less powerful than destiny.

The knife will only hurt for a moment. Then your choice will be made, and it will all be over.

The more beautiful the sky, the more hopeless the neighborhood.

The longer you sit with some shit, the harder it is to talk about

The main goal here is to make ourselves “familiar enough” to straight people to win their acceptance. But why should that be of paramount importance? Precisely why would we want to do ourselves over in their image? To become more like them would be to forget our own singular history and the special insights and perspectives that derive from it, giving us, as spies in the culture, a unique perspective for evaluating and critiquing aspects of mainstream culture.

The mirror of life shows you woman or man, But in the heart of the Soul you are neither. This is why Love is blind.

The more I thought about it, the more I began to grasp the fact that I was being offered a life changing opportunity. A chance to experience something which few people ever even thought about let alone embraced. ‘It will be an adventure,’ she said calmly. ‘For all of us.

[The new camp commander's] first order was that our pink triangles should be replaced by new ones that were almost double in size. And over the triangle a yellow stripe would be sewn, 2 centimeters wide and 12 centimeters long. "That's so I can recognize you filthy queer scum before you get close," he explained with a nasty smile.

The longest piece of literature I've read lately was a tattoo on this biker I picked up last night. It said, If you're this close, you've gotta suck it.

The Mafia’s involvement with gay bars is ironic on so many levels. Macho guys ruled gangland but supported a subculture for nelly queens. Most mobsters were evil sociopaths motivated only by financial self-interest but nevertheless were doing a good thing in providing social spaces for the gay community. The mob was on the wrong side of the liquor laws by serving gay folk but on the right side of the 14th Amendment in arguing for equal protection. The Mafia exploited an oppressed community but advanced the gay cause.

The point is that we are not doomed because we are homosexual, my dear, we are doomed only if we live in despair because of it, as we did on the beaches and the streets of Suck City.

The only thing fairytales have taught us is the slipper doesn't always fit, the kiss won't always wake you, and the prince won't always fight for you. However, one thing that rings true, the apple will ALWAYS be poisoned.

The Perfect Man. The perfect man is gentle, Never cruel or mean. He has an beautiful smile, And keeps his face so clean. The perfect man likes children, And will raise them by your side. He will be a good father, As well as an good husband to his bride. The perfect man loves cooking , Cleaning and vacuuming too. He will do anything in his power, To convey his feelings of love on you. The perfect man is sweet , Writing poetry from your name. He's an best freind to your mother, And kisses away your pain. He has never made you cry, Or hurt you in any way. Oh f*** this stupid poem, The perfect man is GAY!

The pending brahpocalypse/ coup d'état - whatever it was - was much more important than whether a donut-eating Police Officer saw a flying saucer over a gay club or not." - Red Gods Sing.

There comes a point where you become tired of the loneliness and need a human touch, a caress to make you realize you still exist as a person.

There are boys lying awake, hating themselves. There are boys screwing for the right reasons and boys screwing for the wrong ones. There are boys sleeping on benches and under bridges, and luckier unlucky boys sleeping in shelters, which feel like safety but not like home. There are boys so enraptured by love that they can't get their hearts to slow down enough to get some rest, and other boys so damaged by love that they can't stop picking at their pain. There are boys who clutch secrets at night in the same way they clutch denial in the day. There are boys who do not think of themselves at all when they dream. There are boys who will be woken in the night. There are boys who fall asleep with phones to their ears.

There are men who wants only the woman; such are tagged, 'real men', and there are ones who want only their bodies; such are tagged, 'fake men', and there are others who wants neither the woman, nor the body; such are tagged, 'GAY MEN

There is absolutely nothing special about being a man or being straight.

There is a reason why there is a law. As much as we want. We can't always do how we feel and what we want, but we have to do what is right, because doing what we like or want might be wrong. Might harm, put in danger, or kill others

There is a secret layer of humanity that lies just beneath the surface of man, a secret layer where our fears and insecurities hide, that when touched in this secret place men and woman are somehow liberated.

There was a naked jock on my bed and a thing with tentacles coming out of my toilet. One of these things did not belong, and if you tell me that it was the naked jock, you shouldn't be reading this story.

There's a FEW THINGS you need to get STRAIGHT about being GAY..." "That's an OXYmoron." "You'll be an OXYmoron if you don't listen. GAY men SUCK and FUCK. They don't go around falling in LOVE. At least not with every TOM, DICK and HARRY.

There's a strange lack of knowledge about the role of drag queens in our culture. I attribute this to the appalling state of our country's educational system. Others might blame an utter lack of interest. Who am I to judge?

There was no other love that could compare with the love of woman for woman.

The rejection of your identity by your pastor or your parents is not a rejection of you, the person. Only you as the image someone else wants you to be. That image will never make you happy.

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.

There won't be any sex for the first three hundred thousand words... that's how you know this is an asexual-to-demisexual story.

The simple truth of the matter is that people who complain about a peaceful parade which lasts at best one hour in a particular place - ONCE in a whole year - do so out of hatred and intolerance. it isn't just the parade, it is seeing gay and trans people in public - and gay and trans people BEING gay and trans in public. And that is the root of the problem - they HATE gay and trans people.