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The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.

Josh Lanyon

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Josh Lanyon
Though
Sexual
Religion
Gender
Discriminated
Need
Rage
Rages
Needs
Changes
Genetically
Men
Battle
Scapegoat
Eternal
Programmed
Maybe
Regularly
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More quotes by Josh Lanyon

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I thought I recognized you. Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
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He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.
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Rachel delivered it like an official pronouncement. Like she was one of the fairies gifting Sleeping Beauty's christening: Beauty. Intelligence. Heterosexual.
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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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You're kind of a smart ass when you're not flat on your face.
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I know you've all heard the advice, Show, don't tell. The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.
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The only thing worse than opera is someone who hums along with opera.
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He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.
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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 know that thing about Death Be Not Proud? Well, Fear Be Not Proud either. And Fear Be Not Elegant. What Fear be is stumbling, bumbling flight, crashing through brush, slip-sliding on pine needles, sloshing through puddles that are always deeper than you expect.
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I love you, Jake whispered. Are you strong enough for this? I made myself comfortable. Said over my shoulder, Sure. Would you tell me if you weren't? I grinned. Maybe. I can't think of a nicer way to commit suicide. That's good. I can't think of a more pleasant way to commit murder.
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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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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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He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.
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I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?
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Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.
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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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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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The problem with a life spent reading is you know too much.
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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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