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“Isn't that the tragic thing about women? That we live on long after our passions have died?”
Olivia Olivia“Isn't that the tragic thing about women? That we live on long after our passions have died?”
Olivia Olivia“Only five books tonight, Mommy," she says.No, Olivia, just one."How about four?"Two."Three."Oh, all right, three. But that's it!”
Ian Falconer, Olivia“...every now and then I watched him beam at Olivia. He obviously adored her. And I realized that meeting her father made me look at Olivia differently. She was somebody's little girl.”
Mark Peter Hughes, Lemonade Mouth“She's elegant," Olivia stated. "I would kill to have her figure.""Really?""Of course. I have always wished to look precisely like her. Though obviously, not enough to avoid food," she added."That's madness. You have everything she doesn't."Olivia opened her mouth, ready to argue. "Everything she hasn't."She frowned at him."Including me.”
Eloisa James, The Duke Is Mine“Quin reached out, spun her back to him, and pulled her into his arms, held her tight, so tight that she could hardly breathe. "I need you," he said, low and fierce, into her hair. "Oh, G-d, Olivia, how did I ever live without you?"She reached up, pulled his face down to hers. "I'm yours, for good or ill."There was a little click as the door to the ballroom closed, but Olivia paid no mind. "You're the missing piece of me," Quin said. "You make me feel.”
Eloisa James, The Duke Is Mine“Rules for Living by Olivia Joules14) Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.and then the new one from Elsie, added at the bottom:15) Don't regret anything. Remember there wasn't anything else that could have happened, given who you were and the state of the world at that moment. The only thing you can change is the present, so learn from the past.”
Helen Fielding, Olivia Joules and the Overactive Imagination“That autumn, I kept coming back to Hopper’s images, drawn to them as if they were blueprints and I was a prisoner; as if they contained some vital clue about my state. Though I went with my eyes over dozens of rooms, I always returned to the same place: to the New York diner of Nighthawks, a painting that Joyce Carol Oates once described as “our most poignant, ceaselessly replicated romantic image of American loneliness”...Green shadows were falling in spikes and diamonds on the sidewalk. There is no colour in existence that so powerfully communicates urban alienation, the atomisation of human beings inside the edifices they create, as this noxious pallid green, which only came into being with the advent of electricity, and which is inextricably associated with the nocturnal city, the city of glass towers, of empty illuminated offices and neon signs.”
Olivia Laing“Yeah!' I said again, widening my eyes and nodding slowly but emphatically to show that she had seen into my own symmetrical soul.”
Olivia Sudjic, Sympathy“I couldn't decide what kind of person she was, whether she was one of those insects that look exactly like wasps but aren't . . . I just wanted to know if she would sting.”
Olivia Sudjic, Sympathy“He meticulously tries to get every hair in place. He tilts his head to look at himself from different angles, like there's some magic perspective in the mirror that could change the dimensions of his face'-Olivia/Via thinking”
R.J. Palacio, Wonder