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How did people get over this? They obviously did. Every day someone fell in love with the wrong person and had to pack up all their fragile, misguided hopes and unwanted affection, and move on to the next picnic table.

Josh Lanyon

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Josh Lanyon
Moving
Hopes
Next
Fell
Picnic
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Picnics
Persons
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Tables
Unwanted
Every
Obviously
Pack
Love
Move
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More quotes by Josh Lanyon

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You don't look so hot, Adrien. Yeah, well I'm having a bad heart day. His upper lip curled in a semblance of a smile. Tell me about it.
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Tiffs among the faggots were apparently the stuff of quiet merriment.
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Focus on someone else’s problems for a change, I instructed myself. You need the practice. From now on you’ll have to live in a world you didn’t make up. Horrible thought.
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Then, like a born and bred asshole, he added to the sheriff, He writes murder mysteries.
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I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?
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I know that asshole you were with in college --” “Can we leave that asshole out of it?” Please, gentlemen, one asshole at a time.
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Do you still do the clubs?” Jake shakes his head. “You do the clubs because you can’t find what you need at home. I’ve got everything I need. I’ve got the answer to needs I didn’t even know I had.
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You're kind of a smart ass when you're not flat on your face.
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The problem with a life spent reading is you know too much.
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When you live with a potentially life-threatening condition you get used to the thought of dying. You accept it, you push on. The thing that scared me was the picture of dying slowly and painfully, the loss of independence and identity to illness.
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Kit, you're forty. You look thirty. You act...well, never mind. You're carrying on like you think you're seventy
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I thought I recognized you. Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
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Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?
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And I thought maybe I didn't need to worry about my heart anymore because it had stopped beating a couple of seconds earlier, and I was still sitting there living and breathing-though admittedly I wasn't feeling much of anything.
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I'm not insane. This is very simple, very straightforward. Provided he doesn't kill me, its foolproof.
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Not as intolerable as being dead, in my opinion, but I'm very fond of me. I would miss me a lot.
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Jake's mouth found mine, his lips molding hot and soft to my own. His tongue tentatively tested the seal of my lips I parted them and he pushed inside. It was startlingly sweet and achingly familiar, like finding harbor.
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I noticed you right away. She gave me an approving look. I like quiet, polite men. And men who wear Hugo Boss. I was hoping you weren't gay. Or that you were only half-gay. Like Paul. Uh...sorry, I said. It's pretty much full-time now. The pay's not great, but the perks...
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I thought of the words of the Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne. If you press me to say why I loved him, I can say no more than because he was he, and I was I.
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Shrugging out of the damaged shirt, Jake said roughly, “I still dream about you.” “I have nightmares about you.” I dragged my T-shirt over my head, threw it aside.
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