Quotes About Acceptance

I take off my hands and I give them to you but you don't want them, so I take them back and put them on the wrong way, the wrong wrists.

You're going to die in your best friend's arms. And you play along because it's funny, because it's written down, you've memorized it, it's all you know. I say the phrases that keep it all going, and everybody plays along.

You are a fever I am learning to live with.

Here is the part where everyone was happy all the time and we were all forgiven, even though we didn't deserve it.

Do we simply stare at what is horrible and forgive it?

I like dead things, says the landscape. They cannot hurt me.

I take off my hands and I give them to you but you don't want them, so I take them back and put them on the wrong way, the wrong wrists.

The world doesn't know what to do with my love. Because it isn't used to being loved. It's a framework problem.

Is there an acceptable result? Do we mean something when we talk?

pressing against you until he fits, until he's made a place for himself inside you.

but you still can't get beyond your skin

Tell me we'll never get used to it.

Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you. Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

So , I said, now that we have our dead, what are we going to do with them?

Hello darling, sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known.

The blond boy in the red trunks is holding your head underwater because he is trying to kill you, and you deserve it, you do, and you know this, and you are ready to die in this swimming pool because you wanted to touch his hands and lips and this means your life is over anyway. You're in the eighth grade. You know these things.

I hope in my lifetime we can all continue to laugh at ourselves and not put down anyone for what they weigh.

People get used to everything but being dead.

Well, it just figures," Younger told him, like a man explaining his religion.

For you, that tree is dead.

In the age of AIDS I had been making it a practice to imagine a skull and crossbones on the forehead of every possibly available comely gay man I found myself alone with, but Slonski's kept fading in, fading out.

The philosopher king said, "Everything stinks sometimes. Some of it can't be explained.

In the end, everybody gay in Albany knows everybody gay in Albany. Eventually you always end up in the bed you started out in. I mean, this is the Hudson Valley, Newell, not West Hollywood. You can do it.

When the sensation that I am in control of my life and must make it happen ends, then life is simply lived and relaxation takes place. There is a sense of ease with whatever is the case and an end to grasping for what might be.