Top 400 Olivie Blake Quotes (2026 Update)
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101. “Art, a voice buzzed in her ear, was creation. It was dissecting a piece of herself and leaving it out for consumption, for speculation. For the possibility of misinterpretation and the inevitability of judgment. For the abandonment of fear the reward would have to be the possibility of ruin, and that was the inherent sacrifice.”

— Olivie Blake

102. “People always craved power – that was a constant of humanity, a truer rule than any law of physics. If they weren’t given power, they took it. And however lofty and moral their foundational creed, people historically did not choose to give it away.”

— Olivie Blake

103. “That was the torment of it, of art, and the perpetual idolatry of its creation. For every sensation Regan could conjure, there was an artist who had beautifully suffered the same.”

— Olivie Blake

104. “She did that, love him invasively, exploring him like the depths of the sea.”

— Olivie Blake

105. “Time is a function of lies, a trick of the light, a mistranslation.”

— Olivie Blake

106. “Something is wrong, she thought, something is right. Something is definitely wrong but the something right is bigger, somehow, closer to truth. Wrong the way truth is when it’s right.”

— Olivie Blake

107. “Deities themselves had changed over time, but the act of devotion had not.”

— Olivie Blake

108. “Because I know he’ll sit for me. Because I know he won’t mock me, won’t suffocate me, won’t kill this this fragile little thing I’ve found, this fledgling breath I’ve taken. Because he will know what it means, because he asked me to, because he asked. Because he’s the thing I can’t unsee. Because I don’t know if I can get him right without looking, without proof, but also because I need to know, because I’ve already tried. Because either this is how everything changes, or this is how it ends.”

— Olivie Blake

109. “Don’t worry, you’ll fit perfectly, he thought. Don’t worry, there’s nothing here for you to break.”

— Olivie Blake

110. “Write me a tragedy, Lev Fedorov,” she whispered to him. “Write me a litany of sins. Write me a plague of devastation. Write me lonely, write me wanting, write me shattered and fearful and lost. Then write me finding myself in your arms, if only for a night, and then write it again. Write it over and over, Lev, until we both know the pages by heart. Isn’t that a story, too?” she asked him softly.”

— Olivie Blake

111. “Libby thought constantly, relentlessly. She was perpetually wavering between states of worry or apprehension or, in most cases, fear. Fear of ineptitude, fear of failure. Fear she’d do it wrong, do it badly. Fear that she was the disappointing daughter who lived instead of the brilliant one who died. She was afraid, always.”

— Olivie Blake

112. “They preferred the reassurance of customs, little traditions, the more inconsequential the better. Breakfast in the morning, supper at the sound of the gong. It soothed them, normality. Everyone wanted most desperately to be unafraid and numb.”

— Olivie Blake

113. “Sashneka,” Marya said, “you are not incomplete because a piece of your heart is gone. You are you, an entire whole, all on your own. If you have loved and been loved, then you are richer for it; you don’t simply become a smaller version of yourself simply because what you once had is gone.”

— Olivie Blake

114. “It was intimate because it was not. It was religious because it was not. It was beautiful because, at the heart of it, it was twisted and soulless and ugly, and therefore it mirrored something masochistic in Regan herself.”

— Olivie Blake

115. “She is in all of his spaces and all of his thoughts. He contemplates formulas and degrees of rationality and they all turn into her. He thinks about time, which has only recently begun, or at least now feels different. He thinks: the Babylonians were wrong; time is made of her.”

— Olivie Blake

116. “It was a very feminine thing, to be both magical and saintly. Philanthropy could be worn like jewelry or cosmetics, glittering from the effervescence of their pores.”

— Olivie Blake

117. “Instead she thinks: I love him, and for a moment it doesn’t matter whether he loves her back. It is enough to have known that the inside of her chest is more than a place for storage.”

— Olivie Blake

118. “The thing about women and clothes was, in Regan’s mind, that nothing was ever a permanent expression; it wasn’t any sort of commitment to being this type of girl or that one, but purely today, I am. It was just whichever version of herself she wanted to project for the time being.”

— Olivie Blake

119. “People think they have to be born one way, with resilience built in or some incapacity to burn or whatever. Either you are or you aren’t, that sort of thing. Like some people naturally want things and others want nothing, but it’s not true. You can be taught to want. You can be taught to crave. And you can also learn to starve.”

— Olivie Blake

120. “Bye,′ said his mouth, and then he was gone.”

— Olivie Blake

121. “For every sensation Regan could conjure, there was an artist who had beautifully suffered the same.”

— Olivie Blake

122. “She already knows his brain is something foreign to her, something that contains little pockets of mysticism that she will never understand, no matter how intently she can dig her greedy tendrils.”

— Olivie Blake

123. “Don’t you ever detest the necessity of emotional attachment?” Parisa murmured, the tips of her fingers brushing Libby’s throat before toying, idly, with the tips of her hair. “Men in particular are draining, they bleed us dry. They demand we carry their burdens, fix their ills. A man is constantly in search of a good woman, but what do they offer us in return?”

— Olivie Blake

124. “There were times when Tristan’s natural inclination toward cynicism served some larger, more enduring disorder; a vast, chronic paranoia. Any rare glimpses of optimism were swiftly dealt with, like a virus his mind and body leapt to attack. Feelings of hope? Cancerous. Maybe it was systemic, a matter of lifelong institutional mistrust. There was a constant sensation for Tristan that if things seemed to be going well, he was in the process of being mightily tricked.”

— Olivie Blake

125. “He seemed intensely uninterested in talking about himself, which was half the reason she’d brought it up. She’d spent enough time looking too closely at things to know when she was the one being clinically observed.”

— Olivie Blake

126. “Social trends and stigmas change, and the direction knowledge moves is not always forward.”

— Olivie Blake

127. “They see you closer than you are, but you’re further from reach than either you or they can imagine.”

— Olivie Blake

128. “Because Tristan would rather have whatever version of Libby she had become than face the prospect of having no Libby at all.”

— Olivie Blake

129. “Focus looked right on her, vibrant and bright.”

— Olivie Blake

130. “People were so easily desensitized, so helplessly numbed when it came to the repetitive nature of existence.”

— Olivie Blake

131. “Everyone sees through you. Everyone sees through you and on the other side of you is the way life looks without you, and inevitably they will run straight for it with relief.”

— Olivie Blake

132. “But by then his brother had disappeared, the bloodied sword left abandoned in a pool of crimson on the floor. Only then did Dimitri finally notice the cut across his chest; across his own heart, which for some reason did not stop beating despite the stillness where Marya Antonova’s should have been. He’d been so sure that it would, for having loved her; he’d been positive, once, that it would break, shatter, deliver itself to oblivion, all for love of her.”

— Olivie Blake

133. “She knows better than to confuse apologies with affection. People are always sorry, so when he crawls towards her on the mattress she knows to wait for it, to sigh and say, It’s fine, only instead he surprises her, says: I love your brain.”

— Olivie Blake

134. “What you’re seeing is a single intake of breath – one moment. It is the beauty of the world in its most objective state, because the artist isn’t expressing any meaning. He isn’t trying to define you or teach you or tell you what place to occupy.”

— Olivie Blake

135. “That’s a cycle,” he said, “not a circle,” but he understood what she meant.”

— Olivie Blake

136. “Men, conceptually, are canceled.”

— Olivie Blake

137. “To know what people really are and not destroy them is savagely remarkable. She has exceptional restraint.”

— Olivie Blake

138. “What could be easy about outlasting your own existence, your own time? History is a cycle, you know. It’s a function of gains and losses, of ups and downs. A single lifetime contains enough highs and lows to imitate completion, to simulate satisfaction, like any narrative given an end. But if you persist, as time does, then you will only encounter infinite highs, infinite lows.”

— Olivie Blake

139. “The presumption that she was in pieces just because she had once been broken was a dangerous one.”

— Olivie Blake

140. “All men can love a forbidden thing, generally speaking, and in most cases knowledge is precisely that; lost knowledge even more so.”

— Olivie Blake

141. “There was something very coiled up about him, something rearing to strike, but the best part about snakes was how little they could be bothered to do anything unless someone was blocking their sun.”

— Olivie Blake

142. “There was love in him, too much and still insufficient, twisted and anguished and equal in consequence to fear. It was a type of love Parisa had seen before: easily corruptible. The love of something uncontrollable, invulnerable. A love enamored with its own isolation, too frail to love in return.”

— Olivie Blake

143. “I hate boring little anxieties, like Rhodes’s. People who never exceed their shape because they’re too busy wondering why people don’t like them, or who they’re meant to be, or why they aren’t loved, or –.”

— Olivie Blake

144. “When one ecosystem fails, nature makes a new one. That’s how the species survives.”

— Olivie Blake

145. “You and me, you-and-me, you and me, my heart will burn a hole through my chest until I know, and I am not done. I can’t be done yet, this cannot be the ending.”

— Olivie Blake

146. “Like maybe he could ask her something silly and trifling, like if she’d ever looked at the moon and felt empty or if she knew how it felt to set foot in a country with a language she didn’t speak, and she wouldn’t have to tell him the answer, because he would just know it. He would just know.”

— Olivie Blake

147. “He had been bad before. He would be bad again. It would cycle and fluctuate the same way the weather would. It would rain in two weeks, he thought.”

— Olivie Blake

148. “What was being human except to crave things unreasonably?”

— Olivie Blake

149. “The thing about pills, Regan wanted to say to the doctor who had clearly never taken any, was that the ups and downs still happened; they were just different now, contained within brackets of limitation. Some inner lawlessness was still there, screeching for a higher high and clawing for a lower low, but ultimately the pills were loose restraints, a method of numbly shrinking.”

— Olivie Blake

150. “La confianza, una vez muerta, no se puede resucitar.”

— Olivie Blake