"Now they know who we are. We’re counted in their surveys, we’re numbered in their watchfulness, we’re powered in their press. We’re courted, polled, placated. Now they know that we’re teachers and doctors and lawyers and priests and mothers and babies. Now they see us everywhere. Hospitals, theatres, classrooms. Obituaries. Now when they tell lies about us, we answer back. We found our voices. We know who we are. They know who we are. And they know that we care what they think."

“You’d probably just lost your virginity, I’d probably just lost count.”

“Hello, boys. How are you all? I just love boys. Hello. Are you here alone? Who are you with? ...A woman? At my show? ...We'll make believe. It's theatre.”

“I live in a small fictional town in Connecticut.”

“Do you remember at the presidential convention where they nominated Bush? Did you know what song they played to bring Bush on stage? No. “The Best of Times” from La Cage aux Folles. I said some fag pulled a fast one on them!”

“See, I went to an all-gay high school. Art and Design. Now the truth is it wasn’t really all gay, but they bused them in, it was the law. So I went to this high school, I had friends like Pablo. Pablo used to breast-feed a porcelain doll during math. You know. My friend Lauren used to roll cigarettes on her boots.”

“We had great sex, but we argued politics. Now we enjoy politics and argue sex.”