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I have become a veritable scholar in seemingly innocent ploys to get his skin against mine.
the person I most want to run away from is me.
When you are a lad who enjoys getting other lads in bed, you have to develop a rather fastidious sense for who plays the same instrument or there’s a chance you’ll find yourself at the business end of a hangman’s knot.
It is impossible to explain how you can love someone so much that it’s difficult to be around him. And with Percy sitting there, half in shadow, his hair loose and his long legs and those eyes I could have lived and died in, it feels like there’s a space inside me that is so bright it burns.
I understand less than half the words in that sentence, but God bless the book people for their boundless knowledge absorbed from having words instead of friends.
Love may be a grand thing, but goddamn if it doesn’t take up more than its fair share of space inside a man.
“Never have strong-willed children, Montague. Or at least don’t allow them to adore you.
it’s the sort of empty that presses out everything else, like if she isn’t vacant it will fill her up and soak in like a stain. I recognize it because I’ve worn it before. Hollow yourself or the fear eats you alive.
“What we once were, that you are now. What we are now, soon you shall be.”
I’m an emotional delinquent and I say wrong things all the time, but I want to be better for you. I promise that. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re ill and it doesn’t matter if I have to give up everything, because you’re worth it. You’re worth it all because you are magnificent, you are. Magnificent and gorgeous and brilliant and kind and good and I just . . . love you, Percy. I love you so damn much.”
London in particular claimed more gay pubs and clubs in the 1720s than the 1950s.
