Quotes About Belonging

The beauty of Molly's is that it is not, whether in the daytime or at night, the exclusive preserve of an age or income group. Unlike the sterile night scenes of pretentious San Francisco or New York, Molly's (and most other New Orleans bars) welcomes all ages, all colors, and all sexual persuasions, provided they are willing to surrender to the atmosphere.

You are mine, I am yours: you may be sure of this. You've been locked inside my heart, the key has been thrown away; within it, you must always stay.

Dû bist mîn, ich bin dîn, des solt dû gewis sîn, dû bist beslozzen in mînem herzen, verlorn ist das slüzzelîn: dû muost och immer darinne sîn.

We knew something about one another, sure, that we belonged to the same tribe, the markings of which were always visible to those who belong, even if they were invisible to outsiders.

The community of Fire Island is such that you take your place in it for granted, trust that no matter what happens or who it happens with, you will find your way back.

How do you calculate loss, as in the loss of place, encompassing those whose "investment" in their home was not simply economic but who had nowhere else to go? How do you calculate the loss of a place, not only its real geography but the geography of its imagination?

Homosexuality is like a boarding school in which there are no vacations.

I have been a full-time fag for the past five years, I realized the other day. Everyone I know is gay, everything I do is gay, all my fantasies are gay, I am what Gus called those people we used to see in discos, bars, baths, all the time—remember? Those people we used to see EVERYWHERE, every time we went out, so that you wanted to call the police and have them arrested?

Florida was where they lived, where I kept coming back, though nobody asked me questions anymore about what I was doing. One day, when I was sitting in the back seat of the car as we were waiting for a railroad train to go by on our way to the mall, my mother turned back to me and said, apropos of something I forget, "You are a separate person, you know," but I felt I wasn't. I couldn't get away from them, which is why I kept coming back to Florida.

It is a fact seldom observed that after a certain age a single man is a creature no one has a place for

Priyadarshan asked me during the shooting of 'Maalamaal Weekly' 'where are you from, Kerala or Tamil Nadu?' I told him 'I am a Malayali just like you.'

I'm a dual citizen, as are my husband and children. We have got eight passports between us; we're weighed down by them whenever we go anywhere.

Before Hurricane Katrina, I always felt like I could come back home. And home was a real place, and also it had this mythical weight for me. Because of the way that Hurricane Katrina ripped everything away, it cast that idea in doubt.

When I was a teenager in Iceland people would throw rocks and shout abuse at me because they thought I was weird. I never got that in London no matter what I wore.

I have a weird definition of family; it's not the same as everyone else's.

That was like my safe place with great teachers where everyone could let down their guard and not feel judged. As soon as we walk outside, it was like, 'Look at these weird drama club kids.' But we all had our own agreement that we were cool in our own way.

I grew up a little bit in Germany and then in Switzerland, then in France, the United States and in England, and so it is weird.

My mom is from Ghana, and my dad is from the States, so even in my family when I was growing up, my mom said I was the American one, and my dad said I was the weird African one.

I could be anywhere in the country, and people will ask, 'Are you from Jersey?' I'm proud of that. We're a weird breed.

I've got weird conflicting feelings about my generation.

When I was going to school, I just wanted to be like everybody else. I would pull at my hair to try and get it to lie straight. America was where I would consume and absorb black culture, buy Ultra Sheen and watch 'Soul Train,' but I still had that weird in-between thing.

Growing up in the '80s in central New Jersey as a weird kid with a blue mohawk listening to the Sex Pistols and dressing really funky, I was bullied pretty badly. It was every single day in elementary school and kept going into middle school, too. I felt totally alone, without a single person there for me.

I've never been called the black sheep. Everybody in my family had something weird about them, like, 'What's wrong with you?!' We all were black sheep.

It's weird being mixed race, people never talk about the white side, they always talk about the black side.