“I couldn’t earn my way into heaven any more than I could earn my way out of being gay.”

“I never dreamed that one day I would be married to a woman, and that my dad’s position at Focus would divide me from my family, rather than keep us focused on it, but that’s what happened.”

“I was unable to deny my love for Jesus, but equally unable to make my love toward women disappear.”

“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.”

“I don’t want anyone to hold back who they are. It’s not okay… it’s not a good thing”