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I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.

Simone de Beauvoir

Man may reproach women for their dissimulation, but his complacency must be great indeed for him to be so constantly duped.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Greatness Himself Man Woman
I am too intelligent, too demanding, and too resourceful for anyone to be able to take charge of me entirely. No one knows me or loves me completely. I have only myself.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Independent Intelligence Love Myself
There is only one solution if old age is not to be an absurd parody of our former life, and that is to go on pursuing ends that give our existence a meaning.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Age Existence Life Mad Oneself
If the feminine issue is so absurd, is because the male’s arrogance made it a discussion.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Arrogant Mad Man
Her wings are cut and then she is blamed for not knowing how to fly.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Blame Fly Herself Wings
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.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Creation Lost Love Youth
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.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Believe Feeling God Life Religion Tragedy Yourself
The characteristic feature of all ethics is to consider human life as a game that can be won or lost and to teach man the means of winning.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Character Game Human Life Teaching Win
I am incapable of conceiving infinity, and yet I do not accept finity. I want this adventure that is the context of my life to go on without end.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Acceptance Adventure End Life Myself
Some things I loved have vanished. A great many others have been given to me.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Blessing Greatness Love Myself
The sin of smiling whilst Louise was weeping, the sin of shedding my own tears and not hers. The sin of being another being.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Hurt Sin Smile Tears
A day in which I don’t write leaves a taste of ashes.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Myself Poet Taste Writing
She would never change, but one day at the touch of a fingertip she would fall to dust.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Change Fall Herself Touch
That the child is the supreme aim of woman is a statement having precisely the value of an advertising slogan.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Children Value Woman
People seem to think that if you keep your head empty you automatically fill your balls.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Empty People Thinking
I tried to love you less. I couldn’t.
SIMONE DE BEAUVOIR

Break Up Love Myself Try

I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.

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I was made for another planet altogether. I mistook the way.

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