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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
Religion
Gender
Discriminated
Need
Rage
Rages
Needs
Changes
Genetically
Men
Battle
Scapegoat
Eternal
Programmed
Maybe
Regularly
Race
Orientation
Though
Sexual

More quotes by Josh Lanyon

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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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The problem with a life spent reading is you know too much.
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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 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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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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Anyone who wasn't half-stoned on pain meds would have instantly realized what a really bad idea this plan was, but since that didn't include me, I didn't worry about it.
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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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I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.
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Like true philosophers I've come to believe that religion is an illusion of childhood, outgrown after proper education.
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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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I thought I recognized you. Really? He remembered me looking like Swamp Thing? How flattering.
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One thing I’ve noticed about getting older, it takes twice as much work to get half the results one formerly achieved by falling out of bed.
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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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To find them all in one package...well, perhaps better not to dwell on his package in my fragile state.
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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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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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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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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