History took hold of me and never let me go thereafter.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIROne can never know oneself but only narrate oneself.
More Simone de Beauvoir Quotes
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Her wings are cut and then she is blamed for not knowing how to fly.
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All success cloaks a surrender.
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Life is occupied in both perpetuating itself and in surpassing itself; if all it does is maintain itself, then living is only not dying.
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Counselling man to treat her as a slave while persuading her that she is a queen.
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She would never change, but one day at the touch of a fingertip she would fall to dust.
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It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for living.
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It was easier for me to think of a world without a creator than of a creator burdened with all the contradictions in the world.
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Sex pleasure in women is a kind of magic spell; it demands complete abandon; if words or movements oppose the magic of caresses, the spell is broken.
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I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.
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What is an adult? A child blown up by age.
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The whole world was nothing but an exile with no hope of a return.
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I enjoyed my exhaustion, though; I liked overdoing things.
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I would have to have a bit of heroism and get out of myself. But I love myself so much!
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What would Prince Charming have for occupation if he had not to awaken the Sleeping beauty?
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Every individual concerned to justify his existence feels that his existence involves an undefined need to transcend himself, to engage in freely chosen projects.
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A man never begins by presenting himself as an individual of a certain sex; it goes without saying that he is a man.
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Society cares about the individual only in so far as he is profitable. The young know this. Their anxiety as they enter in upon social life matches the anguish of the old as they are excluded from it.
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There’s something tragic about you. Your feeling for the absolute. You were made to believe in God and spend your life in a convent.
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Capabilities are clearly manifested only when they have been realized.
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Youth and what the Italians so prettily call stamina. The vigor, the fire, that enables you to love and create. When you’ve lost that, you’ve lost everything.
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Today, however, we are having a hard time living because we are so bent on outwitting death.
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There is something in the New York air that makes sleep useless.
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If you point out that they’re walking in shit they scream it’s you that have dirty feet.
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It is dreadful to think that behind me my own past is no longer anything but shifting darkness.
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One always has to wait until the sugar melts, the memory dies, the wound scars over, the sun sets, the unhappiness lifts and fades away.
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There is no justification for present existence other than its expansion into an indefinitely open future.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR