Brandon Shire Quotes

Loving someone gives you courage; being loved back gives you strength. -Lao Tzu

Don't even talk to me about being a mother. You were never a mother! Just the psychotic twat I lived with for the first fourteen years.

Yes, I would. I can read the arrest report now. Two blind men fighting over a hot, gay stud-muffin. My mom would freak out and her gaggle of friends would make sure that everybody in town knew about her blind, gay son beating someone down over a man.

Hunter turned and kissed Dillon deeply before he rinsed off. He had never wished for his sight before, but he would have given anything at that moment to be able to turn and witness the beauty of the man that had just made love to him. He'd literally felt the change in Dillon's grip as he made love.
The very first time they were together, Dillon's hold was uncertain, a tentative embrace that held no absolutes, no dreams, but just now it was different; it was a grip that sat right on the edge of possession, a possession Hunter would willingly give, if asked.
But would Dillon ask, and would he be able to accept?

But love is a fluid thing. It's not the same for every person. The concept is. The reality isn't. When you hear people talking, they're usually trying to validate their own perception of what love is, or what it means to be in love.

In my opinion, I think we have brief moments of great beauty and great pain, and as we journey we try to grasp one, so we can avoid the other.

... It's breadth, and the strength between us to know that we're ready for the next step. I want to do it this way so it lasts, and I need you to understand that for me."
"I understand."
"Do you?" Hunter asked him closely. "Then why do I still hear rejection in your voice?"
"Because I'm impulsive, and immature, and ... in love with you.

How could he have wanted someone so desperately for so long and then be this terrified when he finally saw him again?

I had these made special. The design is raised instead of carved in. Can you feel it?" Dillon asked.
Hunter ran his fingertip over the outside of the ring. He nodded as a tear formed in the corner of his eye.
"Can you tell me what it is?" Dillon asked quietly.
Hunter nodded and his voice choked. "Two people ... "
"Two men," Dillon corrected.
"Two men," Hunter said, "pulling each other into the center of a circle."
Dillon watched his single tear slip and start sliding down his cheek. "Would you step into that circle with me, Hunter?"
Hunter nodded, a small sound escaping him. "Yes.

Listen to the breath of the rain."
They were silent for a minute. Dillon closed his eyes and tried to grasp at what Hunter experienced. Hunter moved closer and put the heat of his breath in Dillon's ear. "I want you to make love to me by the rhythm of the rain," he whispered.

Every storm has a brilliance, Dustin; has beauty when you look at it from a distance. It blurs all those incessant imperfections we seek to hollow out with each of our hopes. But when you step into its still center, when you see it's fury and its power, you also see its beauty; its grace.

( ... )"He said we all have this different idea of what love is and that's what makes our circle. The more ideas and misconceptions you throw in, the larger the diameter and the harder it is to connect with someone. We," he said, squeezing Hunter's hand and signaling Margie and everyone around them, "all sit around the edge looking at everyone else around the circle. Sometimes we just settle for the person next to us because it's easy or convenient and we skip our way around its circumference, never really knowing what love is all about."
He took a sip of his Coke and kept his eyes on Margie. "But other times, you see that person across from you, staring back at you, and you fight like hell trying to get across while he does the same. If you're lucky, there's a rope you can toss over and help draw each other in, never looking away, never worrying about those still on the circumference; just you and him, pulling each other in, deeper and deeper."

His feelings for Hunter kept falling down on him like an inescapable rain. He kept getting drenched, not sure if he wanted to dance in it or pop open an umbrella and run for cover. "You're such an idiot," he told himself quietly.

You're telling me I'm being attacked by a bunch of goddamned queers?

Dillon went so still it was like Hunter was alone in the apartment again. He emitted no breath, no whisper of movement, nothing. He was just a blank space, an absence in the middle of the room. Hunter started to reach for him but froze his hand when Dillon spoke. ( ... )

But I am your willing sacrifice, Dustin; I am the one willing to let you go in the deep hope that you will someday come back to me, come back to that moment and that understanding.
Yes, I cannot breathe without you in my soul, but I also know that I cannot take your breath for you. I understand that now.

Snow is kind of weird," Dillon said. "It's so slow, drifts a little here and there, and it doesn't make much noise," he said as he looked at Hunter. "I think I want to skip the symphony," he added as he untied Hunter's tie and slipped it from around his neck. " I would like very much for us to stay in and see if you can match its rhythm. What do you think?

The problem here is that you think love will take all the pain away, like it does for characters in a book. It's not that easy, Stephen, and not that simple; despite all your bards and how much we'd like that to be true. It isn't. Love isn't going to fix me, or you. It's not a laxative that just helps you shit out all the crap you'd rather forget.

You are such a fag hag. They should have a class just for you, call it Man Porn 101.

A long time ago he believed that he was above the men chasing him; capitulating to their secret desires and dark fears was what he did to survive, nothing more and nothing less. But now he understood that all that reasoning was nothing more than a self-assessing loop which he had used as a survival mechanism. It had run constantly but never actually went anywhere; like a rat on a flywheel, all action, no forward motion.

This was to be man sex.

Five thousand miles away and I can still feel your turbulence on my skin, Dustin; your grit stuck in the chambers of my heart ... and all the silence that has followed it.
Please write me back.

He knew what it was like to lose a parental anchor in life.