Henry Barreras

“You're not my sweetheart, you're myself. My heart or my sex. A branch of me.”
― Jean Genet, Our Lady of the Flowers

“Sometimes I was unfaithful to my grandmother during our walks. I would stop and let her walk on ahead, I would bend down and do up my shoelace, quickly I would pick up a stone or pebble, then run after her and give her my free hand. When the stone or pebble was warm I let it fall on something soft: the grass or sand. Then I could breathe with the satisfaction of having had an existence of my own.”
― Violette Leduc, La Bâtarde

“Quite solemnly I told myself: "even though I'm still undecided at present and appear to be an idle pleasure-seeker par excellence, this is no reason to doubt that perhaps soon a time will come when I'll be firm resolution itself and ready to take on the full harshness, the utter nakedness, of life just as bravely as the next fellow."
I was not a little proud of this monologue.”
― Robert Walser, Masquerade and Other Stories

“Martin walking in dim, green places--she could picture his life away in the forests, a man's life, good with the goodness of danger, a primitive, strong, imperative thing--a man's life, the life that should have been hers--And her eyes filled with heavy, regretful tears, yet she did not quite know for what she was weeping. She only knew that some great sense of loss, some great sense of incompleteness possessed her, and she let the tears trickle down her face, wiping them off one by one with her finger.”
― Radclyffe Hall, The Well of Ioneliness