Sign in with Facebook
“I don't want to be loved despite my history:
I want absolution, someone to observe my fitting-into and
growing-out-of, someone to watch my spine
make the mannequin come to life.”
― APOCRYPHAL
I want absolution, someone to observe my fitting-into and
growing-out-of, someone to watch my spine
make the mannequin come to life.”
― APOCRYPHAL
“It's the way a man chooses to limit himself that determines his character. A man without habits, consistency, redundancy - and hence boredom - is not human. He's insane.”
― The Dice Man
― The Dice Man
“The bow of God's wrath is bent, and the arrow made ready on the string, and justice bends the arrow at your heart, and strains the bow, and it is nothing but the mere pleasure of God, and that of an angry God, without any promise or obligation at all, that keeps the arrow one moment from being made drunk with your blood.”
― Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
― Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God
“And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.”
― A Little Life
― A Little Life
“For us, eating and being eaten belong to the terrible secret of love. We love only the person we can eat. The person we hate we ‘can’t swallow.’ That one makes us vomit. Even our friends are inedible. If we were asked to dig into our friend’s flesh we would be disgusted. The person we love we dream only of eating. That is, we slide down that razor’s edge of ambivalence.
The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption.
At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching.
Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up.
Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me.
Sign my death with your teeth”
― Stigmata: Escaping Texts
The story of torment itself is a very beautiful one. Because loving is wanting and being able to eat up and yet to stop at the boundary. And there, at the tiniest beat between springing and stopping, in rushes fear. The spring is already in mid-air. The heart stops. The heart takes off again. Everything in love is oriented towards this absorption.
At the same time real love is a don’t-touch, yet still an almost-touching. Tact itself: a phantom touching.
Eat me up, my love, or else I’m going to eat you up.
Fear of eating, fear of the edible, fear on the part of the one of them who feels loved, desired, who wants to be loved, desired, who desires to be desired, who knows there is no greater proof of love than the other’s appetite, who is dying to be eaten up, who says or doesn’t say, but who signifies: I beg you, eat me up. Want me down to the marrow. And yet manage it so as to keep me alive. But I often turn about or compromise, because I know that you won’t eat me up, in the end, and I urge you: bite me.
Sign my death with your teeth”
― Stigmata: Escaping Texts
Olive’s 2025 Year in Books
Take a look at Olive’s Year in Books, including some fun facts about their reading.
Olive hasn't connected with their friends on Goodreads, yet.
Favorite Genres
Polls voted on by Olive
Lists liked by Olive
