Tragedies are all right for a while: you are concerned, you are curious, you feel good. And then it gets repetitive, it doesn't advance, it grows dreadfully boring: it is so very boring, even for me.

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.

I think that The Second Sex will seem an old, dated book, after a while. But nonetheless, a book which will have made its contribution. At least, I hope so.

Some things I loved have vanished. A great many others have been given to me

Live with no time-out.

There is no justification for present existence other than its expansion into an indefinitely open future.

If you haven't been happy very young, you can still be happy later on, but it's much harder. You need more luck.