26 Quotes by John Rechy

The invitation to rot obliviously, to die without feeling it, to grow old looking young, is everywhere in this glorious, sunny, multi-colored city.

I read many books, I saw many, many movies. I watched other lives, only through a window.

All true? I think autobiographers are big liars.

And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window – remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up – and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

It’s that magnificent interlude in New York between winter and spring, when you feel the warmth stirring, and you remember that the dreadful naked trees will inevitably sprout tiny green buds, soon. Everyone rushes into the parks, the streets – and you even forget that, very soon, summer will come scorchingly, dropping from the sky like a blanket of steam...

And the next moment the fierce wind comes screaming, whirling the needle-pointed dust, stifling all hope. And you know then that what has not happened will never happen. That hope is an end within itself. And the fierce wind is an echo of angry childhood and of a very scared boy looking out the window – remembering my dead dog outside by the wounded house as the gray Texas dust gradually covered her up – and thinking: It isnt fair! Why cant dogs go to Heaven?

And now, it seems, they are all here: the handsome masculine ones desired alike by men and women; the gushing swishes, hands aflutter like wings; the few stray women secure among the men who will idolize them but not love them; and as in any group of homosexuals and those lured for whatever reason to them, there is here a mood of superficial good humor, of euphoria bordering on hysteria. So.

You can rot here without feeling it.