Robinne Lee Quotes

Love is this very precious thing, Izz. It's this precious, magical thing. But it's not finite. There's not a limited amount of it out there. You just have to be open to allowing it to find you. Allowing it to happen.

Simon invited the girls on an outing to the Apple Store. Please advise.

Totally safe.

Really?

Really.

Also, did you know that there was a LEAST gay guy in your band?

lol.
Rory.

Great. I want to ask where you fall on that list, but maybe I don't really want to know...

?????
You haven't been complaining.
Stop getting ur intel from 13 yr olds.

So, you tracked me down, did you?"

"I did." Hayes's gravelly voice filled the phone.

"Very resourceful."

"I have an assistant..."

"Of yourse you do."

"Her name is Siri. She's quite good at her job.

Love, she said, was not always perfect, and not exactly how you expected it to be. But when it descended upon you, there was no controlling it.

Because I knew, in my heart, that we would not last. And because every moment of it was extraordinary.

My identity is different because the world responds to my physical appearance differently. And their response inadvertently changes how I see myself. And that's kind of … crazy." "It is," I said. "But we redefine ourselves. We evolve. That's what people do.

I want to do things that feed me. I want to surround myself with art and fascinating people and stimulating experiences … and beauty. I want to surprise myself."
Hayes smiled then, slow, knowing. "It's like unfolding a flower."
"It's what?"
"You, revealing yourself. You, who vowed to share as little as possible.

Who are you, Hayes Campbell?"
He smiled, his hands burrowing in his pockets. "I'm your boyfriend."
"My twenty-year-old boyfriend?"
"Your twenty-year-old boyfriend. Are you okay with that?"
I grinned. "Do I have a choice?"
"You always have a choice." He'd appropriated my words, which I found amusing.
"Then, yes … I am very okay with that.

Things don't really start falling apart until forty-two.

I can come to your place."

"I don't think that's a good idea," I'd said...

"You don't want me to see where you live? What are you hiding over there? Another boy band?"

"Yes. You've found me out. I've got the Backstreet Boys in the attic."

He paused for a second and then began to laugh. "The Backstreet Boys? How old are you again?"

"Shut up, Hayes."

"You sure you don't have the Monkees over there as well?"

"I'm hanging up.

It's art. And it makes people happy. And that's a very good thing. We have this problem in our culture. We take art that appeals to women - film, books, music - and we undervalue it. We assume it can't be high art. Especially if it's not dark and tortured and wailing. And it follows that much of that art is created by other women, and so we undervalue them as well. We wrap it up in a pretty pink package and resist calling it art.

And then one day, they stopped.
Long, long before I had stopped loving him.

It grated on me. That no one would question him moving on. Him marrying and impregnating someone more than ten years his junior. Because that's what divorced men in their forties did. His stock was still rising. His power still intact. Daniel had become more desirable, and I somehow less so. As if time were paced differently for each of us.