We liked to be known as the clever girls. When we decorated our hands with henna for holidays and weddings, we drew calculus and chemical formulae instead of flowers and butterflies.

Let us pick up our books and pencils. They are our most powerful weapon.

I reassured my mother that it didn’t matter to me if my face was not symmetrical. Me, who had always cared about my appearance, how my hair looked! But when you see death, things change. “It doesn’t matter if I can’t smile or blink properly,” I told her. “I’m still me, Malala. The important thing is God has given me my life.

We should not wait for someone else to come and raise our voice. We should do it by ourselves. We should believe in ourselves. One day you will see that all the girls will be powerful; All the girls will be going to school. And it is possible only by our struggle; only when we raise our voice.

We must believe in the power and strength of our words. Our words can change the world.

Education is neither Eastern nor Western, it is human.

This is what my soul is telling me: be peaceful and love everyone.