“And into the great empty quarter of America I went. Like a bottle of malt liquor or a boy’s asshole, America is. Sing that, Walt Whitman. My country ‘tis of thee … Oh, bountiful. ” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Yellowdog, where does sorrow go?” He held his heart. “Lives here, in each of us.” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“The only good soul is a lost soul, and only a lost soul can find its way home.” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Which made Lawrence what? – The Prince of Darkness himself? Or just another false prophet? What boyfriend wasn’t in the end?” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“How many of these children would one day be queer? How many would be felled by the acronym? How many by something else? How… — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Consequently, any boy who appeared at such a time was bound to carry a certain weight, a sort of saving grace, a fateful gravity.” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“I felt my heart crack slowly like a pomegranate, spilling its seeds.” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Don’t focus on outward means of satisfaction if you want to be happy.” — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“My emotions were like a crowd. Give ’em what they want. Barabbas or the J-man. There’s gonna be a crucifixion. Well, more or less.… — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Love was actually more like calculus or physics. What was the half-life of love? Did it have cosigns and slopes, or quarks that morphed… — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“Even when I wasn’t looking for Jimmy, there was a huge empty mouth waiting inside the doors of all those clubs. It was in… — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
“I opened the bag and ran my hand through his ashes. He’s like an instant universe. Just add a little water, and we’d have… — Trebor Healey Copy Share Image
