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Lgbtq Quotes

Browse 654 quotes about Lgbtq.

Lgbtq Quotes

“No son of mine, Lord. No son of mine! Beat beat beat You try to beat it out of me Belt it out of me Heartless heart Beat beating You think you can bruise me Out of being Bruise it out of me When you belt it beat it Try to break it- Try to break the thing you cannot break Because I carry it so deep inside No beat of yours no belt of yours Will ever come close. You try to beat it out of me Belt it out of me Belt me into buckling Beat me into heartstopping Stophurting Trying so hard You say you'll kill me to save me Kill the me inside of me Beat it belt it but it Just won't budge. Not for you. I know You can't stay in this room forever I know We can't stay in this room forever You beat me belt me to get to me But you'll never get to me Not the me me heartbeat me. I am saving it. I am saving it for tonight I am saving it for you right there And you over there. I am saving it for Every you with a me deep inside. Now that I've left that room Out into the world as big As a billion rooms I have saved me Yes, I have saved me Constructed of words and hurt And the glass self I've protected All this time To get to this one of a billion rooms This room tonight. Beat beat beat I have found my own beat My own pitter-patter My own sis-boom-bah! Beat beat beat I belt it out Song sung strong Stung song Tongue song Back from being Bitten back Some songs sung beg to be carried home. This song sings To be carried far and wide. Beat beat beat- The sound it brings Is the sound of wings.”

“Stephen, listen, I hate what I'm going to say, but by God, it's got to be said to you somehow! You're courageous and fine and you mean to make good, but life with you is spiritually murdering Mary. Can't you see it? Can't you realize that she needs all the things that it's not in your power to give her? Children, protection, friends whom she can respect and who'll respect her—don't you realize this, Stephen? A few may survive such relationships as yours, but Mary Llewellyn won't be among them. She's not strong enough to fight the whole world, to stand up against persecution and insult; it will drive her down, begun to already—already she's been forced to turn to people like Wanda. I know what I'm saying, I've seen the thing—the bars, the drinking, the pitiful defiance, the horrible, useless wastage of lives—well, I tell you it's spiritual murder for Mary.”

“She couldn't tell which was winning out - her utter devastation at Gabriel's lack of support, at the way he'd made her feel so monstrous, of the suspicion that she was monstrous; that is was somehow a dishonorable thing to look at Bridget the way she did, and tha tGabriel was right to have reacted with revulsion. She wanted to scrub it all out. She wanted to back everything she had said and go back to a time when she was still just the sister that Gabriel knew and loved, not this stranger he had looked at with such disappointment.”

“As she was putting her boots on Daisy threw a barb over her shoulder that struck Connie right in the middle of her chest. ‘Grow up, Connie! This place is not for faint-hearted romantics!”

“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.”

“So, let me get this straight-- You want me to stop being a lesbian and being attracted to women because it is a 'sin'? Last time I checked, when you lie you are sinning. Sure, I could tell you I am no longer a lesbian or that I am no longer attracted to women and am straight, or I could even tell you the moon is made of cheese. I could tell you many things, but the moon will still not be made of cheese, and I will still not be attracted to men. I could tell you a lie in order to placate you, but isn’t the truth supposed to set me free? I choose truth over lies any day of the week.”

“When are you going to get a fella?" Lily asks Rose after a year or two of dancing. "I have one who wants to take me kissing, but I think I should wait for you to have one." Rose flushes. "I don't think I'll ever have a fella." "Why not?" Lily bristles. "We're plenty pretty." "I don't like the look of them," Rose says. Lily purses her lips at the dance floor, appraising. After a moment long, Rose says, "Any of them." Lily looks at her a long time, as Rose tries not to hyperventilate. Then Lily shrugs and says, "Well, then it's you who should have learned to lead, isn't it?" and when Rose clasps Lily's hand, she clasps it back. It's the closest they've ever been.”

“I wanted to hear his window open, hear his espadrilles on the balcony, and then the sound of my own window, which was never locked, being pushed open as he'd step into my room after everyone had gone to bed, slip under my covers, undress me without asking, and after making me want him more than I thought I could ever want another living soul, gently, softly, and, with the kindness one Jew extends to another, work his way into my body, gently and softly, after heeding the words I'd been rehearsing for days now, Please, don't hurt me, which meant, Hurt me all you want.”

“Now is not the time for bigots and racists. No time for sexists and homophobes. Now, more than ever, is the time for ARTISTS. It’s time for us to rise above and to create. To show humanity. To spread hope. We must prevent society from destroying itself, from losing its way. Now is the time for love.”

“It's not enough for us to mourn and resist the suffering and oppression of 2SLGBTQIA+ folks. We must also dare to imagine a world in which we are all embraced and celebrated in life-giving mutuality. We must stir our imaginations to conceive of a Church where every member of this vibrant Body is recognized for the divine image we reflect. And before we nod in easy agreement to this truth, we must also recognize that we have been conditioned into a crisis of imagination. We have lost so much of that creative capacity- and we must rekindle it! And one crucial way to do that is to elevate those lives and voices that demonstrate that imagination, found most often among those very people who live under that suffering and oppression. As Walter Brueggemann reminds us, "It is the vocation of the prophet to keep alive the ministry of imagination, to keep on conjuring and proposing futures alternative to the single one the king wants to urge as the only thinkable one.”

“The strong women told the faggots that there are two important things to remember about the coming revolutions. The first is that we will get our asses kicked. The second is that we will win. The faggots knew the first. Faggot ass-kicking is a time-honored sport of the men. But the faggots did not know about the second. They had never thought about winning before. They did not even know what winning meant. So they asked the strong women and the strong women said winning was like surviving, only better. As the strong women explained winning, the faggots were surprised and then excited. The faggots knew about surviving for they always had and this was going to be just plain better. That made ass-kicking different. Getting your ass kicked and then winning elevated the entire enterprise of making revolution.”

“She had only to call and Mary would come, bringing all her faith, her youth and her ardour. Yes, she had only to call, and yet—would she ever be cruel enough to call Mary? Her mind recoiled at that word; why cruel? She and Mary loved and needed each other. She could give the girl luxury, make her secure so that she need never fight for her living; she should have every comfort that money could buy. Mary was not strong enough to fight for her living. And then she, Stephen, was no longer a child to be frightened and humbled by this situation. There was many another exactly like her in this very city, in every city; and they did not all live out crucified lives, denying their bodies, stultifying their brains, becoming the victims of their own frustrations. On the contrary, they lived natural lives—lives that to them were perfectly natural. They had their passions like everyone else, and why not? They were surely entitled to their passions? They attracted too, that was the irony of it, she herself had attracted Mary Llewellyn—the girl was quite simply and openly in love. 'All my life I've been waiting for something...' Mary had said that, she had said: 'All my' life I've been waiting for something...I've been waiting for you.' Men—they were selfish, arrogant, possessive. What could they do for Mary Llewellyn? What could a man give that she could not? A child? But she would give Mary such a love as would be complete in itself without children. Mary would have no room in her heart, in her life, for a child, if she came to Stephen. All things they would be the one to the other, should they stand in that limitless relationship; father, mother, friend, and lover, all things—the amazing completeness of it; and Mary, the child, the friend, the beloved. With the terrible bonds of her dual nature, she could bind Mary fast, and the pain would be sweetness, so that the girl would cry out for that sweetness, hugging her chains always closer to her. The world would condemn but they would rejoice; glorious outcasts, unashamed, triumphant!”

“As long as she lived Stephen never forgot her first impressions of the bar known as Alec's—that meeting-place of the most miserable of all those who comprised the miserable army. That merciless, drug-dealing, death-dealing haunt to which flocked the battered remnants of men whom their fellow-men had at last stamped under; who, despised of the world, must despise themselves beyond all hope, it seemed, of salvation. There they sat, closely herded together at the tables, creatures shabby yet tawdry, timid yet defiant—and their eyes, Stephen never forgot their eyes, those haunted, tormented eyes of the invert. Of all ages, all degrees of despondency, all grades of mental and physical ill-being, they must yet laugh shrilly from time to time, must yet tap their feet to the rhythm of music, must yet dance together in response to the band—and that dance seemed the Dance of Death to Stephen. On more than one hand was a large, ornate ring, on more than one wrist a conspicuous bracelet; they wore jewellery that might only be worn by these men when they thus gathered together. At Alec's they could dare to give way to such tastes—what was left of themselves they became at Alec's. Bereft of all social dignity, of all social charts contrived for man's guidance, of the fellowship that by right divine should belong to each breathing, living creature; abhorred, spat upon, from their earliest days the prey to a ceaseless persecution, they were now even lower than their enemies knew, and more hopeless than the veriest dregs of creation. For since all that to many of them had seemed fine, a fine selfless and at times even noble emotion, had been covered with shame, called unholy and vile, so gradually they themselves had sunk down to the level upon which the world placed their emotions. And looking with abhorrence upon these men, drink-sodden, doped as were only too many, Stephen yet felt that some terrifying thing stalked abroad in that unhappy room at Alec's; terrifying because if there were a God His anger must rise at such vast injustice. More pitiful even than her lot was theirs, and because of them mighty should be the world's reckoning.”

“I think Democrats struggle with extending one of our basic principles—which is that no one is their worst act, no one is their worst belief—to people on the other side of the political divide. I’m not talking about Donald Trump right now. I’m talking about Republicans. The question here is not how do I demonstrate grace in the face of Donald Trump; it’s how do I demonstrate grace in a world where people that I work with—where even people that I represent—hold positions and beliefs about who I am that are personally hurtful, potentially.”

“Privilege is when you contribute to the oppression of others and then claim that you are the one being discriminated against.”

“Little difference exists between gay Christian theology and gay secular humanist presuppositions, other than the use of "God-talk" in an attempt to sanctify gay sex.' The gay Christian movement is both in the world and of the world. Homoerotic behavior is ultimately a profession of atheism and a declaration of war on Western society's heterosexual norms inherited from historic Christianity. Homosexual sex is indeed a revolutionary act seeking to overthrow all constraints imposed by traditional Christianity. Christianity is the opposition, from the secular humanist perspective, and this conclusion is legitimate, for homosexual practice is antithetical to everything Scripture and the Christian tradition teach about men and women, who are created by God for each other. The gay Christian movement chooses to obscure the truth and has deluded itself into embracing the fantasy that God blesses homosexual practice.”

“Unless we filter all of our contemplation of the Hebrew and Christian scriptures through the person of Christ, the words are impenetrable. And as our first week’s study informed us, the person of Jesus is love. We will revisit this truth throughout the entirety of this book, because it is the key to every argument you face about LGBTQ+ issues.”