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Lgbtqia Quotes

Browse 212 quotes about Lgbtqia.

Lgbtqia Quotes

“When trust is violated, it's like you're left with an empty piggy bank. Building trust again, she said, is like putting big, fat nickels into the slot. They clank against the bottom, and that sound is jarring. But in order to heal, you have to keep adding those nickels, and soon enough, there will be coins to cushion the nickel's fall and make the sound not so grating.”

“No one had turned to us and held out a handful of questions: How many ways are there to have the sex of girl, boy, man, woman? How many ways are there to have gender - from masculine to androgynous to feminine? Is there a connection between the sexualities of lesbian, bisexual, heterosexual, between desire and liberation? No one told us: The path divides, and divides again, in many directions. No one asked: How many ways can the body's sex vary by chromosomes, hormones, genitals? How many ways can gender expression multiply - between home and work, at the computer and when you kiss someone, in your dreams and when you walk down the street? No one asked us: What is your dream of who you want to be?”

“Still, the thought of having someone to spend time with, to talk to, maybe to hold while she slept? It sounded romantic. Perfect. Why was it so difficult for others to contemplate a relationship built on mutual affection, on romantic gestures that didn’t extend into the bedroom? Abby wanted roses and inside jokes, something easy and natural. Sex was a complication she didn’t have any interest in.”

“Memory is not the past. It is the echo of the stars we lost, Between the stars there is silence, and in that silence we hear our own hearts most clearly.” — Ismael S. Rodríguez Jr.”

“I believe in your ability to heal, grow, and live as your full, true self. It doesn’t matter where you’ve been or what you’re going through right now.”

“When you live authentically according to your values, you create ripples that extend far beyond your personal experience.”

“They have loved her so fondly that people might confuse it for romance when it was always admiration. Sometimes, the wallflower thinks, their friend is a goddess. However, they never wanted to put her up on a pedestal. Not even now. This book in their hands is just a small thanks. A way of hoping to reach her heart in the way her writings have theirs. Maybe not all the collected stories will rattle the hearts like hers. After all, they have only started to write. But the wallflower hopes that their stories are being read by their friend and that they will understand how much they mean to them. But until then – they will attempt to find the words for these characters and their lives within these pages.”

“„I remember it all too well.“, he sighs into the hot cup of coffee Hades hands him. She nods, taking a look as well. This place here in a small town somewhere in Scotland has become a haven for the tragic stories of a past and gave them a chance of becoming something new. Not everyone’s story is going to be fixed. Chiron is terribly aware of it, brushing over the large scar on his arm but for the most of it, people have a chance of rewriting their own stories.”

“„Say, Pythias… Are you trying to flirt with me?“ „Have been for years.“, they sip from their coffee, „You’re catching on only now?“ There is this blush Pythias enjoys seeing on Damon’s face. He already reminds him of a painting which came to life but especially this rush of blood to his face turns him almost human instead of ethereal. There are still streaks of the paint from their art session clinging like nettles on his beautiful face. „I mean, how could I not? I owe you my life, but instead I’ve sworn my friendship to you. My lifelong loyalty and my heart. It is all I can offer you and I would hand it over to you even without anything in return. Although it would be nice to get at least a fragment of my affection back.”

“I know what I am. I know that I've chosen to identify as a transgender woman, and that I am - by and large - happy with where I am in this world. I'm far from perfect, and I could give you a list as long as my arms of the things I'd love to change. Nevertheless, I am still here, and I am still me, and no one can change that without my permission. -Gwendolyn Ann Smith, "We're All Someone's Freak”

“I feel that for white America to understand the significance of the problem of the Negro will take a bigger and tougher America than any we have yet known. I feel that America's past is too shallow, her national character too superficially optimistic, her very morality too suffused with color hate for her to accomplish so vast and complex a task. Culturally the Negro represents a paradox: Though he is an organic part of the nation, he is excluded by the ride and direction of American culture. Frankly, it is felt to be right to exclude him, and it if felt to be wrong to admit him freely. Therefore if, within the confines of its present culture, the nation ever seeks to purge itself of its color hate, it will find itself at war with itself, convulsed by a spasm of emotional and moral confusion. If the nation ever finds itself examining its real relation to the Negro, it will find itself doing infinitely more than that; for the anti-Negro attitude of whites represents but a tiny part - though a symbolically significant one - of the moral attitude of the nation. Our too-young and too-new America, lusty because it is lonely, aggressive because it is afraid, insists upon seeing the world in terms of good and bad, the holy and the evil, the high and the low, the white and the black; our America is frightened of fact, of history, of processes, of necessity. It hugs the easy way of damning those whom it cannot understand, of excluding those who look different, and it salves its conscience with a self-draped cloak of righteousness. Am I damning my native land? No; for I, too, share these faults of character! And I really do not think that America, adolescent and cocksure, a stranger to suffering and travail, an enemy of passion and sacrifice, is ready to probe into its most fundamental beliefs.”

“Child, I am taking you to The Autumnal Ball.” “The . . . but . . . but . . . I don’t have a ticket.” “Don’t worry about it.” “But how—” “Don’t worry about it.” “But I don’t have a thousand dollars for—” “I said, don’t worry about it.” “But how can I not worry about it? Worrying is what I do! About everything!” With an unexpectedly calm smile, Coco put I finger to my lips. “And that’s why you need a fairy godmother. For the rest of the night you’re not allowed to worry about anything. You have one, and only one, responsibility. To have a dream come true and have the sweetass time of your sweetass life. Do you understand me?”

“People think that LGBTs adopting children will hurt them, but it's not being in loving homes that hurts children most.”

“I used to think that I was kind of like a doll. When I was a kid, I’d imagine myself taken apart like a puzzle and rearranged into a different thing altogether. If I just removed a bit of myself and mixed them that maybe I could fit together in a way that I never felt I could. Or just not rearranged at all. Just taken apart piece by piece and left in a metal drum. Either way, I wish I could just take parts of myself away and make this all more manageable, but I can’t.”