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.

Be loved, be admired, be necessary; be somebody.

The emancipation of women must be the work of women themselves, independent of the class struggle.

Woman is shut up in a kitchen or in a boudoir, and astonishment is expressed that her horizon is limited. Her wings are clipped, and it is found deplorable that she cannot fly.

Women have been burnt as witches simply because they were beautiful.

The point is not for women simply to take power out of men’s hands, since that wouldn’t change anything about the world. It’s a question precisely of destroying that notion of power.

The torment that so many young women know, bound hand and foot by love and motherhood, without having forgotten their former dreams.