Best 285 quotes in «lgbtq quotes» category

Inside my chest, my lungs are wild animals, clawing at the cage. "Oh, man," Autumn mumbles from beside me. "His smile makes me stupid." Her words are a dim echo of my own thoughts: His smile ruins me. The feeling makes me uneasy, a dramatic lurch that tells me I need to have him or I won't be okay.

In the unification of two minds, orientation of sexuality is irrelevant.

I realized the preserving a relationship at all costs was not as important as affirming the human right to be free from abusive treatment.

I seen the cold deeds of hunger. The world got a lot of people in it, and when it comes to slaughter and famine, whether we're to live or die, it don't care much either way. The world got so many it don't need to. We could have starved out there on the badlands, on that desert that wasn't a desert, on that journey that wasn't a journey so much as a fleeing eastward. Thousands die everywhere always. The world don't care much, it just don't mind much. That's what I notice about it. There is that great wailing and distress and then the pacifying waters close over everything, old Father Time washes his hands. On he plods to the next place. It suits us well to know these things, that you may exert yourself to survive. Just surviving is the victory.

I stare at my hands and remember my dad's and how I trusted them when I was a kid until I learned that they could turn into fists. And words could hurt even more than the bruises.

Is this what she would have wanted, Hawke?" Ronan asked quietly. "Justice at the cost of an innocent man and his child?

I think he won a tiny piece of my heart that day. If he didn't have the whole damn thing before then, he certainly had part of it now.

I still kept so much from her at that time, but she made me feel like, someday, I wouldn't anymore - she made me feel so many somedays.

I think you're something wonderful.

It’s never too late to find that one person who can change you, for a reason, a season or a lifetime.

It is not often that I have two options to choose from. It is nice to be compelled towards something, otherwise one drifts through life unimpeded. Bhanggi

It is strange... the reasons one feels he doesn't deserve things.

It's not 'over-sensitivity' to ask to be treated with the same dignity and respect shown to others.

It's not conversion 'therapy;' it's conversion brainwashing.

It's okay to be afraid. Sometimes there are good reasons to be.

It still irks me that I'll probably spend most of my life dividing the people I know into two groups: the people who support me without question and the ones who should.

It's terrifying to think you could become the next statistic.

It's stupid because I don't even know her, but sometimes you see someone and there's just this flicker. Like a light bulb that glows around the person, making them shine brighter than all the others. It's not that they're more attractive or smarter or funnier than anyone else. It's just they have a combination of all the things that speak directly to you.

It’s worth noting my family doesn’t use the word step regarding anyone who’s married into our family. Jerry isn’t, nor has he ever been, my step-dad. His mom isn’t my step grandma: neither are my aunts, uncles, or cousins. While there was never a discussion regarding how we categorize or title our family, we all just understood that for us, we are all simply family.

It wasn’t the words, but the cruelty in his mother’s smile that had broken his heart.

It was as though each of them had discovered something unexpected but infinitely desirable. They were not yet sure of each other, but they wanted to be.

It wasn't the first time I'd been with someone, but it was different this time. Maybe it was because when I told them I was bisexual they weren't like the girls who thought I was *really* a lesbian; they weren't like the boys who thought it was hot. Maybe it was because when they told me they were genderqueer I just said that I knew and they cried as they smiled at me. Or maybe it was just because our limbs fit together, maybe because it tasted like salt water and was the colour of sunlight through grass. Or maybe it was just all these things.

It was understood that I would always be kind and gracious and show up with a smile.

I've fought for religious freedom and I can tell you that anti-gay 'religious freedom' bills aren't it.

I've decided if being a real man means smashing someone in the face or turning your back on a person because of their sexuality, I'll just stay a girl.

I've had to learn how to separate what I have known and learned of God personally from what other people have done to me in the name of God.

I was an utterance in absentia. I was a forgotten word, uttered and mislaid long ago. I was the word that existed because there was another word that was my opposite, and without it I was nothing. I gained meaning only by acknowledging that possible other. Nida

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.

Living in a world of darkness doesn't mean we must surrender, but to survive, we need to occasionally unleash the diva from within.

I was shut off from my body; I had barely thought about sexuality or longing. Up until this point, my sexual experiences had felt business like or even transactional...I hadn't been suppressing urges or denying my needs. I didn't feel like I had any, not corporeal ones. My journal entries from that time speak to depression and feelings of isolation, fears that a friend would leave, a sense that I had been responsible for my mother's departure and would therefore cause anyone I loved or needed to leave. I was still spending most of my time in my head. I was removed from my own feelings.

I was unable to deny my love for Jesus, but equally unable to make my love toward women disappear.

Living in a world that is grossly opposed to who you are, the bravest and most radical thing to do is to be yourself. And being a part of the LGBT+ community is just that – brave.

Long after you go down and the vessel rusts apart your bones sunken buried in the ocean floor I wonder if you miss people?

Looks like Quackula got the best of you,” said Jeff. Braeden snorted. “Something like that.” “What’d you do to it?” asked Maya. “Nothing. I thought it was a big duck at first.” Braeden shook his head. “Never saw a goose up close before. Didn’t really think about it until it started hissing.” Jeff rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. 'How can you grow up near a lake and not tell the difference between a duck and a goose?

Lotte wanted Francoise to stay the night, but she wouldn’t. Francoise thought of movies, usually thrillers, in which the hero gets out of bed during the night, dresses and slips out, leaving a beautiful woman asleep and unaware. Francoise wished she could leave like that, but her film was a realistic one. As she walked back to her apartment she thought that getting out of the relationship had been as awkward and messy as Lotte’s pulling her finger out of Francoise’s ass.

Lord knows why I find you attractive, Michael, when you generally smell like weed and broken hobo dreams.

Love has no gender - compassion has no religion - character has no race.

Love should never mean having to live in fear.

Maybe I'm crying because I'm terrified that he's come here to do more damage, to reactivate what I feel only to let me down easy again, missionary style.

Makeup can be used to express yourself as well. Those experiences should not be limited to women. Everyone should be free to be as colorful as they want to be.

Millions of men who are disgusted by the thought or sight of a man having sex with another each sometimes brings about an orgasm through a woman’s anus.

Most people think the closet is a small room. They think you can touch the walls, touch the door, turn the handle, and walk free. But when you're inside it, the closet is vast. No walls, no door, just empty darkness stretching the length of the world.

My brain is such a traitorous beast.

my blood runs pink (for my sexuality that is mine to embrace, not yours to strike with lightning bolts of change) and red (for the life i will continue to live, the life you cannot take away from me) and orange (for my siblings who heal me with their love and understanding, helping me piece myself back together after you tried to break me) and yellow (for the sunlight from within that still manages to shine in these dark times) and green (for existing in the natural, physical world when all you want is my disappearance) and blue (for the serenity we bring amidst the disturbances we face) and purple (for my spirit, which won’t be broken) (it can never be broken and you will never break us)

My last thought before falling asleep last night was a realisation that I was falling in love with Andrew. Well, not me exactly. My stupid, traitorous heart.

Nails that claw by a beautiful mind. A pretty face can leave you blind - Poem 'Small Pain' from 'The B Word: The B in LBGTQ Poetry'.

My parents had always been accepting of homosexuals and had supported their fight to be treated as equals, but it was different when it was your own son.

Not a boy or a girl, not any binary, rigid definition of a person. Just my everything.

No person, no matter how important society deems their relationship to you, has the right to denounce you for who you are.

Once he asked me what I thought had turned me gay." "I hope you told him you were bitten by a gay spider," said Simon.