Top 400 Olivie Blake Quotes (2025 Update)
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101. “There are no perfect circles, Regan. Yes, there’s one, and it’s this one: They fall in love because they’re always in love. That’s circular, not a circle. He can believe whatever he wants; she knows it’s a perfect circle.”

— Olivie Blake

102. “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

103. “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

104. “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

105. “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

106. “Ambition was such a dirty word, so tainted, but she had it. She was enslaved by it. There was so much ego to the concept of fate, but she needed to cling to it. She needed to believe she was meant for enormity; that the fulfillment of a destiny could make for the privilege of salvation, even if it didn’t feel that way right now.”

— Olivie Blake

107. “So this is what it is to love something you cannot control, he thought. It felt precisely like terror.”

— Olivie Blake

108. “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

109. “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

110. “There is nothing so destructive as thought, and especially not one that can never be rescinded.”

— Olivie Blake

111. “He’s just also very, um – ” “Grumpy,” said Nico. “Well, I wouldn’t – ” “He’s grumpy,” Nico repeated. “Varona, I’m trying t-” “He’s grumpy,” Nico said loudly. “Maybe he’s shy,” countered Libby, unconvincingly.”

— Olivie Blake

112. “I want you to expect – no, I want you to demand,” she amended. “I want you to demand things from me, to tell me to make this work, to force me if you have to. I want you to bet on me, Aldo. I want you to make investments, I want your future.” The last part slipped out. “I want your future, Aldo. I want it for me.”

— Olivie Blake

113. “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

114. “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

115. “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

116. “You wouldn’t make love with him, you’d make art. Maybe that would be worth it, but still, art is tragedy.”

— Olivie Blake

117. “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

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

— Olivie Blake

119. “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

120. “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

121. “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

122. “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

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

— Olivie Blake

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

— Olivie Blake

125. “Empires have fallen like this, he thinks, but it only makes him want her more, makes him look at his hands and think, My god, what a waste of time doing anything else but holding her. What a waste, and then he says aloud, JesusfuckingChrist what have you done to me? And she says, Kiss me.”

— Olivie Blake

126. “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

127. “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

128. “She needed to believe she was meant for enormity; that the fulfillment of a destiny could make for the privilege of salvation, even if it didn’t feel that way right now.”

— Olivie Blake

129. “She’d given him arrows and he’d shot, and now parts of her were gaping holes, flayed and filleted and left behind as open wounds.”

— Olivie Blake

130. “She proved herself alive by proving this day had never been lived before, that this thing had never been felt or never tasted or never wanted, and now, because it existed, things were different; changed.”

— Olivie Blake

131. “It isn’t constancy that keeps us alive, it’s the progression we use to move us. Because everything is always the same until, very suddenly, it isn’t.”

— Olivie Blake

132. “What did he think love was – pain? Was that all anyone believed love to be? That if it didn’t hurt, if no one pined, then it was as if it did not exist and had never existed – a tree brought down in the forest with no one to hear it fall?”

— Olivie Blake

133. “You can never truly know a culture until you’ve been bitten by one of its myths.”

— Olivie Blake

134. “Many people incorrectly assume time to be a steady incline, a measured arc of growth and progress, but when history is written by the victors the narrative can often misrepresent that shape.”

— Olivie Blake

135. “She couldn’t look away from his face, which did not say: What’s wrong with you? but instead, said: Hi. Hello. Nice to meet you.”

— Olivie Blake

136. “He thinks of all the other versions of himself making love to all the other versions of her and resolves to pluck them out of their alternate realities, out of their alternate spaces and times, to place them in this one.”

— Olivie Blake

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

— Olivie Blake

138. “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

139. “You’ve been running a long time,” he murmured to her, brushing a loose curl from her cheek. “Poor thing.” He pulled her into an embrace, feeling the low swell of her misery greet him like a wave inside his chest. “You’ve been running for your life since the moment you were born.”

— Olivie Blake

140. “Tending to every whim made others unnecessarily combative, mistrustful. 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.”

— Olivie Blake

141. “The problem with being a smart girl was being naturally curious.”

— Olivie Blake

142. “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

143. “It occurred to her that Aldo Damiani was probably something of a rarity himself.”

— Olivie Blake

144. “We all have our own curses. Our own blessings.” Callum’s smile faltered. “We are the gods of our own universes, aren’t we? Destructive ones.”

— Olivie Blake

145. “Things were always stranger in retrospect, which was a funny little consequence of time.”

— Olivie Blake

146. “They’d had a knack for it from the beginning, a way of becoming the other’s beginning and end.”

— Olivie Blake

147. “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

148. “Charlotte Regan, Aldo realized, loved change, unhealthily. She loved it like an obsession, like infatuation. With change she had an ongoing affair, and perhaps it had been neutralized for a time with pills and psychotherapy but underneath it all, the little monster that was her soul was clawing for it, and it had been Aldo who’d hauled it out again. He’d unleashed a titan, he’d freed her, fallen in love with her, and as much as he’d hoped it would relent to something manageable, it did not.”

— Olivie Blake

149. “If I were going to ask someone for help, Rhodes, it would have been you.”

— Olivie Blake

150. “When Aldo spoke of Regan his voice had a tendency to change, illumination rising near his cheeks. “You should see her work,” he would say the same way someone else might have said: Come outside, come look at the stars.”

— Olivie Blake