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“So he was queer, E.M. Forster. It wasn't his middle name (that would be 'Morgan'), but it was his orientation, his romping pleasure, his half-secret, his romantic passion. In the long-suppressed novel Maurice the title character blurts out his truth, 'I'm an unspeakable of the Oscar Wilde sort.' It must have felt that way when Forster came of sexual age in the last years of the 19th century: seriously risky and dangerously blurt-able. The public cry had caught Wilde, exposed and arrested him, broken him in prison. He was one face of anxiety to Forster; his mother was another. As long as she lived (and they lived together until she died, when he was 66), he couldn't let her know.”
― Michael Levenson

“Most people think the closet is a small room. They think you can touch the walls, touch the door, turn the handle, and walk free. But when you're inside it, the closet is vast. No walls, no door, just empty darkness stretching the length of the world.”
― S.J. Sindu, Marriage of a Thousand Lies

“We’re not broken. We’re not in the wrong bodies. We’re not inadequate. We’re not lesser. We’re not unwanted. We’re not fraudulent. We’re not undesirable. That’s all just a set of lies we tell to soothe the experience of the prisons we put ourselves in.”
― Agnostic Zetetic

“Annie, who up until this very day had always felt like a child--which is why she could not marry, she could not be a wife--now felt quietly ancient. She thought how for years onstage she had used the image of walking up the dirt road holding her father's hand, the snow-covered fields spread around them, the woods in the distance, joy spilling through her--how she had used this scene to have tears immediately come to her eyes, for the happiness of it, and the loss of it. And now she wondered if it had even happened, if the road had ever been narrow and dirt, if her father had ever held her hand and said that his family was the most important thing to him.”
― Elizabeth Strout, Anything Is Possible

“This is where we come," he said.
Albie and I look at each other. “We?�
“Me and, you know.�
Albie’s eyes got wide. “I really don’t think I want to know about this.�
I surprised myself. “I do,� I said. I guess I was tired of having to withhold the truth from Toby. Other than Ben, he and Albie we’re easily my best friends at Natick.
Toby looked a little surprised, like he’d just assumed we wouldn’t want to hear the details.
“You do?�
â€Ô¨±ð²¹³ó.â€�
He looked around to make sure we were alone. We definitely were. No one came back here to my knowledge. Also it was cold. Like twenty degrees. Only three idiots would be in the woods in the winter, it seemed to me.
“Robinson� he said.
“Gorilla Butt,� I said, nodding. “I know.�
“You know?�
â€Ô¨³Ü±è.â€�
Toby crossed his arms an then deflated into a fake pout. “You’re stealing my scene, bitch. Scene stealer.�
“Sorry,� I said. “So you and Gorilla Butt. Wow.�
He flipped me off. “He hates that,� Toby said. “But, yeah. It’s hairy.�
“Oh, look, almost anything else in the universe,� Albie said, heading back to campus and leaving us in the clearing.
“He’s such a prude,â€� Toby said rolling his eyes.”
― Bill Konigsberg, Openly Straight

“... he's most probably in a closet so deep he's, like, in Narnia.”
― K.A. Merikan, Road of No Return: Hounds of Valhalla MC

“Some lurid things have been said about me—that I am a racist, a hopeless alcoholic, a closet homosexual and so forth—that I leave to others to decide the truth of. I'd only point out, though, that if true these accusations must also have been true when I was still on the correct side, and that such shocking deformities didn't seem to count for so much then. Arguing with the Stalinist mentality for more than three decades now, and doing a bit of soapboxing and street-corner speaking on and off, has meant that it takes quite a lot to hurt my tender feelings, or bruise my milk-white skin.”
― Christopher Hitchens, Christopher Hitchens and His Critics: Terror, Iraq, and the Left

“I’ve always been a very private individual. For a lot of reasons. But mainly one. The man I lived with for all that time. The monster in the closet who I protected.”
― Dan Skinner, The Price of Dick

“God came up and kissed Day on his forehead. When Day looked over at Johnson, who was still slowly sipping his soda, the guy did look lonely as hell. Before Day could say something kind, his other headache strolled in.

“Oh hell. What the fuck is going on in here? This must be the officer’s gay alliance club meeting.�

Day blew an exasperated breath. “And now that you’re here, Ronowski, all members are present and we can begin.�

Day smiled as God and Johnson practically spit their drinks out laughing.

Ronowski fumed. “Day, you’re going to stop calling me gay! I have never been gay! I will never be gay, and I don’t like anyone that is gay! So stop saying that before people start believing your bullshit!�

Day clapped his hands together once. “Okay everyone those are the notes from last week’s meeting, now on to new business.� Day leveled Ronowski with a stern glare. “Ronowski, you are gay, man. You’re tightly closeted. But you are indeed gay, ultra-gay. You’re fuckin� Marvin Gay. You crash landed on Earth when your gay planet exploded.� Day moved away from God and stood in front of an openmouthed Ronowski. “Come out of the closet already. It’s so bright and wonderful out here. Dude, I’ve seen Brokeback Mountain too, don’t believe that bullshit. No one cares who you fuck…ya know…like you tell me every. Single. Day. Of. My. Life,� Day said exaggeratedly.

He stepped in so close to Ronowski that he could smell the body wash he used.

“Let a man bang your back out one time.â€� Day leaned in to the man’s ear and felt Ronowski’s body give a fierce shutter. “I mean pound your ass so hard that you can’t walk straight for a week, and I guarantee you, you’ll want to march in the next gay pride parade, wearing nothing but a glitter jockstrap and a fuckinâ€� hot-pink feather boa.â€� Day stepped back and saw the beads of sweat that had popped up on Ronowski’s forehead. Satisfied he’d proven his point he refilled his coffee and left the break room.”
― A.E. Via

“He said: “You are my son.â€� And I began to sob. Perhaps this is the worst any closet does to us â€� it prevents us from hearing the words “I love you.â€� These were words my parents said to me, and I trusted the love, but not the “you.â€� The real me was hidden, so the “youâ€� they loved was some other, better son. But when my father claimed me â€� This thing of darkness I acknowledge mine â€� I began to suspect that no matter what I was, he would be next to me, the silent economist stroking my hair.”
― Kenji Yoshino, Covering: The Hidden Assault on Our Civil Rights

“Symptomatic of the loneliness of the closet was how devoted I became to the prospect that I would die at a young age.”
― Billy-Ray Belcourt, A History of My Brief Body

“I wonder how do gay men: we: us find each other in public and not get punished and punched by playground bully boys.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“Frantically, he scans the room, settling on the closet.

Brayden sighs, 'Seriously, dude? Must we live the cliche?' ”
― Lynn Kelling, Bound By Lies

“Apparently some of the guys in gay-for-pay really were straight.”
― Amy Lane, Dex in Blue

“Goodbye Syn.

That man at the end of the bar; that was the kind of man that lured you to his bed at night and fucked you senseless, but then beat the shit out of you the next morning, because in the harsh light of day, he wasn’t gay. Furi knew that type of man all too well. As he walked the half-block to the bus stop, his blood cooled at the horrific memories of the last year as he lit a Marlboro and waited for the next bus. He didn’t need to dredge up old horror stories, he had to get his mind right ... he had an early shoot in the morning.”
― A. E. Via

“I kept my identity to myself as soon as I found it. I had seen it before, in cartoon characters...Big Bird and the Brave Little Toaster. They didn't have to be a young girl or a young boy with dark insecurities and stigmatized daydreams. They could transcend ambiguously between boy, girl, hero, villain, martyr.”
― Cristy C. Road, Spit and Passion

“Galit siya, madiin ang pagkakasara ng kanyang panga, pero pinipigil n'ya iyon.
Alam ko naman ang dahilan.
Lalaki siya.
Ang lalaki hindi umiiyak.
Kaya pinili na lang niya'ng manahimik.”
― Alex Rosas, Gay's Anatomy

“For all my mom knows, I am as straight as Taylor Swift (my mortal enemy).”
― Taleen Voskuni, Sorry, Bro

“How bad would it actually be, to end up with a woman? I’m sure I could learn to live with it. And if you close your eyes, well, you could imagine it’s a guy.”
― Holden Sheppard, Invisible Boys

“I'm terrified that the Boogeyman is gonna hear what I've been thinking about certain boys and what happens to my heartbeat when I'm around some of them.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“My sexuality is like a compass. I've been trying to point myself toward the direction where people are walking on a straight line, but my internal arrow just does not naturally go that way.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“Truth is, I feel obligated to act out a prescriptive performance every day. Some figurative rite of passage into manhood.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“How old will I be before I kiss another Black boy?”
― Tony Keith

“I don't think gay boys can become hip-hop music stars. ...can't be soft in a solid-gold industry where punk, sissy, faggot, and bitch are lyrics that sell out concerts and generate Billboard record sales.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“I typed to him.
All the things I'm scared to be specific about in my poems:
the boys and my heartbeat
the increasing rate of blood flowing through my body
the private places where our aromas genearate
the flames and the fire
going to Hell and having these desires”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry

“I don't want to be gay, but it's never been a choice, and I don't know how to explain that to anyone but Wesley.”
― Tony Keith, How the Boogeyman Became a Poet: A YA Memoir in Verse of a Black, Gay Teen's Journey to Self-Discovery through Poetry