Best 2888 quotes in «gay quotes» category

Déjame estar triste, es la única forma que conozco de estrujar la felicidad para que después no me pene.

Despite their exhaustion and worries, Miner and Ennek made love that night, tracing fingers and tongues over one another's marks and scars. Their bodies were like books, Ennek thought, and their stories could be read inch by inch. He hoped fervently for happy endings.

Did I just create Ben/Jason slash fiction? Do people care enough about me to even write Ben/Jason slash fiction? Do I get royalty checks for slash fiction? Probably not.

Dont come for me!.... I didn't send for you!

Do you like my brother?" And there goes Dan's confidence. He keeps his eyes resolutely on the field. "Uh... yes? I mean... I think everyone likes your brother, don't they?" She leans over and gives him a little hip check. "No, you know what I mean. Do you /like/ him?" Dan just states out at the horses, hoping that one of them will do something, anything, to distract this girl from her question. But the horses just keep grazing and Tat continues. "'Cause he likes you. I mean, he likes Jeff, too, but... you can like two people at once, right?" "Uh... yes? I think you can like two people at once." "Yeah. I know it's none of my business or whatever, but... I just wanted to make sure you know... if you like him, that's cool with me. I mean, I like Jeff too, but... you know." Dan has a brief moment of wanting to shake her. No, he /doesn't/ know. Is everything really so clear to everyone but him? Is he just adding extra complications where they don't need to be? Then he remembers that he's talking to a fifteen-year-old girl. Maybe she shouldn't be the arbiter of what's simple or complicated. He realizes that she's still waiting for a response from him. "Okay, well... thanks for letting me know." "Are you guys going to, like... date?" "Sweet Jesus, Tat, I don't know!" Possibly that's a bit of an overreaction, but she looks more amused than upset. "All right, all right...." She gets a mischievous look in her eyes.

Do you know how many men are incarcerated in solitary confinement? About 100,000 on any given day, if my numbers are correct. Do you know how many men commit suicide in The Hole? Very high. Twenty-four hours in a box with no windows can break a man. Some more quickly than others.

Do you think, for a moment," she whispered, "that I would have done anything differently? That I could have chosen anything but this, now?" Her dark eyes were alive, bright, shining. "I would suffer any lie, Persephone, for you.

Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?" "Not at all. Shoot-" "Do you have butt implants?

Dutton, the home of Winnie the Pooh, would find a second identity as a home for gay fiction.

D stared out the window, shoving down the feeling that it might be real nice to sit here and tell Jack Francisco everything about himself, confess things he'd never told nobody, just to feel like somebody cared, and to keep those big blue eyes fixed on him for as long as he could.

During those snowy New England winters, besides learning to rise at five to study calculus and trudge two miles through the drifts for breakfast down the road, he had suppressed some tremendous element in himself that took form in a prudish virginity. While his life was impeccable on the surface, he felt he was behind glass: moving through the world in a separate compartment, touching no one else.

Either you are homophobic or you are a human - you cannot be both.

El amor no tiene género, la compasión no tiene religión, el carácter no tiene raza

Either way, you were connected. By your desires. By your defiance. By the simple, complicated fact of who you were.

Esta marica desgraciada que se refugia en la parcela de poder que le queda a su alcance (porque es rica, porque ha triunfado con el taxi, porque ha heredado, porque se ha comprado un piso, porque es funcionaria, porque se ha enchufado en un partido) ya está presta, dispuesta y lista para oprimir a todas las maricas que no sean como ella, que no hayan tenido su suerte o su capacidad de trabajo, que no hayan sufrido su síndrome olímpico. Y no le importará discriminarlas, gasearlas, despreciarlas en virtud de su pertenencia a una mayoría opresora (militar, universitaria, católica, rica, aristocrática, propietaria). Además, hará responsables a todas las lesbis, trans y plumeras de un fracaso que ellas mismas se han buscado: hará de la pobreza, de la precariedad, del desempleo de sus congéneres desviadas una consecuencia de sus vidas desordenadas, ociosas, irresponsables. ¿Por qué, si ella es marica y ha triunfado, va a tener que solidarizarse y preocuparse por las maricas que no lo han conseguido, cuando ella misma es la prueba de que es posible hacerlo? Y seguramente acabe votando a la derecha para que conserve sus grandes logros unipersonales, que no está dispuesta a compartir con nadie.

Evan nuzzled his chin into the crook of Dan's neck, finding the spot that always made Dan squirm and laugh. "I love you, Danny." "You gets so fucking sappy after I let you top," Dan responded, but he didn't move away. "We should stick a spigot in you, drain it out, and boil up some maple syrup." "You stick your spigot in me, I wouldn't be the one topping anymore." "Nice. You freak." "You're the one who wanted to make maple syrup out of my sappiness," Evan protested...

Explanations of straight men's homosexual behavior take the awkwardness, shame, and ambivalence attached to these encounters as evidence of discordance between self and behavior, forgetting that these affectations characterize the terrain of sexuality more broadly. For example, among the many costs of sexism is that sex is often utterly scripted and unsatisfying for straight women, and yet straight women's sexual dissatisfaction is rarely taken as evidence that they are acting out of accordance with their heterosexual orientation.

Even after six years, he was still turned on by the bastard, still desperate to kiss his lips and see how it felt to kiss him into submission, until he saw him as more than a loser geek. He wanted to taste his tongue, to touch his abs and stroke his cock; do all the things that it was so wrong to want to do to him. Wrong because of Ben, because of his love for Ben, because he barely knew Jaxton, back then and now. What the hell was wrong with him?

Everybody is Other in Maupin.

Everyone’s assumption is for women and men to be together, and yet here we are, human girls, the Demon King’s concubines. Surely love between two women wouldn’t be so strange?

Fear is the intended result of codifying homophobia into law.

Father André turns cherry-red, I’ve socked him below the belt, but he handles it and holds up, speaking in a quiet, confident voice. “I didn’t choose this. He created me this way. He made me as a homosexual.” “What for? Was he feeling bored?” “So that I would come to Him. So that I would serve Him.” “Why, you don’t even have any right to serve! You’re a sinner! Your god created you a sinner! What for?” “So that I would always be guilty. Always guilty, no matter what I did.” “Wonderful!

Father Brendan Flynn: "A woman was gossiping with her friend about a man whom they hardly knew - I know none of you have ever done this. That night, she had a dream: a great hand appeared over her and pointed down on her. She was immediately seized with an overwhelming sense of guilt. The next day she went to confession. She got the old parish priest, Father O' Rourke, and she told him the whole thing. 'Is gossiping a sin?' she asked the old man. 'Was that God All Mighty's hand pointing down at me? Should I ask for your absolution? Father, have I done something wrong?' 'Yes,' Father O' Rourke answered her. 'Yes, you ignorant, badly-brought-up female. You have blamed false witness on your neighbor. You played fast and loose with his reputation, and you should be heartily ashamed.' So, the woman said she was sorry, and asked for forgiveness. 'Not so fast,' says O' Rourke. 'I want you to go home, take a pillow upon your roof, cut it open with a knife, and return here to me.' So, the woman went home: took a pillow off her bed, a knife from the drawer, went up the fire escape to her roof, and stabbed the pillow. Then she went back to the old parish priest as instructed. 'Did you gut the pillow with a knife?' he says. 'Yes, Father.' 'And what were the results?' 'Feathers,' she said. 'Feathers?' he repeated. 'Feathers; everywhere, Father.' 'Now I want you to go back and gather up every last feather that flew out onto the wind,' 'Well,' she said, 'it can't be done. I don't know where they went. The wind took them all over.' 'And that,' said Father O' Rourke, 'is gossip!

First of all, being gay is far from a curse. It’s more like an extra order of fries at Wendy’s because the lady in the window isn’t paying attention while she fills your bag. It’s awesome.

Fidelity is a living, breathing entity. On wobbly footing, it can wander, becoming something different entirely.

Fin da piccole sapevano quanto poco valore il mondo attribuisse ai libri, e non perdevano tempo a leggerli. Mentre io, anche adesso, continuo a credere che quei puntini neri su fondo bianco abbiano il più alto dei significati, che se insisto a scrivere potrò cogliere l'arcobaleno della coscienza e rinchiuderlo in un barattolo.

First, I’m going to teach you how to Irish Whip someone.” “Oh, that sounds kinky. I want my safeword to be peaches,” I said, grinning.

For that is the curious quality of the discotheque after you have gone there a long time: in the midst of all the lights, and music, the bodies, the dancing, the drugs, you are stiller than still within, and though you go through the motions of dancing you are thinking a thousand disparate things. You find yourself listening to the lyrics, and you wonder what these people around you are doing. They seemed crazed to you. You stand there on a floor moving your hips, wondering if there is such a thing as love, and conscious for the very first time that it is three-twenty-five and the night only half-over. You put the popper to your nostril, you put a hand out to lightly touch the sweaty, rigid stomach of the man dancing next to you, your own chest is streaming with sweat in that hot room, and you are thinking, as grave as a judge: What will I do with my life? What can any man do with his life? And you finally don’t know where to rest your eyes. You don’t know where to look, as you dance. You have been expelled from the communion of the saints.

For the fact was drugs were not necessary to most of us, because the music, youth, sweaty bodies were enough. And if it was too hot, too humid to sleep the next day, and we awoke bathed in sweat, it did not matter: We remained in a state of animated suspension the whole hot day. We lived for music, we lived for Beauty, and we were poor. But we didn’t care where we were living, or what we had to do during the day to make it possible; eventually, if you waited long enough, you were finally standing before the mirror in that cheap room, looking at your face one last time, like an actor going onstage, before rushing out to walk in the door of that discotheque and see someone like Malone.

For the first time in his life he understood why the Bible called sex "knowing". Everything was different. Now he knew Dante. He'd known Dante. And wonder of wonders, Dante had known him right back.

Fuck… that was…” “Good?” I grinned, licking my lips, looking up at him. “Shit yeah!” Jay wailed.

[From 1994 introduction by Dr. Klaus Müller.] The postwar German government did not simply forget about homosexuals; on the contrary, it actively continued to persecute them, and to justify the efforts of the Nazis in this respect… The Nazi version of Paragraph 175 was, in fact, explicitly upheld in 1957 by the West German supreme court.

For you cannot live in New York City very long and not be conscious of the niceties of being rich—the city is, after all, an ecstatic exercise in merchandising—and one evening of his visit to Venezuela Sutherland sat straight up when he read a line of Santayana’s: “Money is the petrol of life.

From the chapter titled "R3curs1on" (Typographical irregularities are for effect and require context.) “Godnet removes the uncertainty. I miss the Bro o o o... Is there an official response from NEXSA at this stage?” “We’re assessing our options. I can’t tell you specifics at this...” “bots but I know they turned eeeeeeeeee turned eeeee turned tur ur ur ur ur” “...important thing is to ensure the safety of the Hotel occupants and escort them home.” “Sanija, what possibility is there of their protection, or indeed our own, when such advanced vehicles make their return trip? I mean, the threat’s...” “eeeevillll Mommy says my kids kids my kids are on it every day because we know your rights we know your rights and we made them disappear. We miss love love the Brobots better because we made them made them made them made them them them disa disa dis dis dis... A totally encryption constitution raaaaaaainbow cat now diiiiignity nooooiiise.

Gay people were seen as magical, too. I mean, like in many cultures, men were viewed as warriors and women were viewed as caregivers. But gay people, being both male and female, were seen as both warriors and caregivers. Gay people could do anything. They were like Swiss Army knives!

Gay liberation did not create gay promiscuity. There was sex before there were marches, politics, or books – it was the best reason for being homosexual, it and love.

Gay men know a lot more about sexual responsiveness, and the erotic potential of their bodies, particularly of their nipples and assholes, than straight men.

Gay ships are yay ships!

Genes do not make an individual homosexual. They play their part, but so does the rest of the universe.

Gay diversity is like the Village People. You can all wear different stupid outfits as long as you sing the same stupid song.

Gay people got a right to be as miserable as everyone else.

Genesis was not intended to offer a scientific explanation for how non-being was transformed into being, how nothingness exploded into galaxies. The point is to tell us God was in charge, he had us in mind from the start, and we are to value the great gift of his amazing creation, and of each other.

Get your sticky fingers away from my cookies,” Ben ordered, without turning his head, to see Jaxton trying to steal one from the cooking tray. “You weren't saying that last night,” Jaxton retaliated, coming up to Ben's side, to give him a nudge. They were both smiling, while looking down at the counter, where Ben was making his delicious rosemary cookies. “In fact, I seem to remember you grabbing my sticky fingers and putting them in your mouth,” he teased, speaking quietly, so that Lyon wouldn't hear them at the other side of the room. Ben turned to Jaxton and abandoned his baking, to catch his face in flour covered hands and plant a deep kiss on his lips. Jaxton opened his mouth, in acceptance of his kiss. ~ From the Heart

Geylerin ve lezbiyenlerin kamusal düzlemden silinme şiddetinin tehdidi altında olduklarının tartışılacak bir yanı yoktur, fakat bu şiddete karşı koyma kararı alınırken onun yerine bir başka şiddeti getirmemeye de özellikle dikkat etmek gerekir. Hangi çeşit lezbiyen ya da geyler görünür kılınmalıdır ve hangi içsel dışlamalar bu görünür kılınmayı kurumsallaştıracaktır? Kimliğin görünürlüğü bir siyasal strateji olarak yeterli sayılabilir mi, yoksa siyasal yapının kökten dönüştürülmesini gerektiren bir stratejik müdahale açısından sadece bir başlangıç noktası mıdır?

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.

Goodbye Syn. That man at the end of the bar; that was the kind of man that lured you to his bed at night and fucked you senseless, but then beat the shit out of you the next morning, because in the harsh light of day, he wasn’t gay. Furi knew that type of man all too well. As he walked the half-block to the bus stop, his blood cooled at the horrific memories of the last year as he lit a Marlboro and waited for the next bus. He didn’t need to dredge up old horror stories, he had to get his mind right ... he had an early shoot in the morning.

Going out in tights and wigs and drag, it takes a whole lot of courage...And those gays, they're just being themselves. And I think we owe a whole lot to them, because they're going out risking their lives just to be who they are, just so we can exist.

Gray,” he whispered in his ear. Grayson moaned softly in return. “I'm here for you. I exist only for you. Tell me what you want me to do and I'll do it.

Grayson Dashwood. Those two words had just ruined what was turning into a good morning.

GUYS! Would you give it a rest?" Kevin shouted at them, "You're standing there feeding off each other! Dad – you're trying to prove to Ted why me and Dani are a Bad Thing – because you just can't bring yourself to admit that it isn't, even though you can SEE that it isn't! You know it! And Ted – you're pushing my dad's buttons on purpose because you're not so sure yourself how you really feel about us - her, me, any of it! So both of ya just SHUT THE HELL UP!" He turned back towards Dani, "Dani – you're beautiful and I love you – but this wasn't one of your best ideas. Now everyone just be quiet while I hit the stupid little white ball and make it go into the stupid little round hole! GAWD!" All three of them stared at Kevin while he swung. The stupid little white ball flew straight and high, and landed on the green. Apparently a little focus – no matter what it was directed towards – was just what Kevin needed.