One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman.

The day had been spent in the expectation of these hours, and now they were crumbling away, becoming, in their turn, another period of expectancy...It was a journey without end, leading to an indefinite future, eternally shifting just as she was reaching the present.

One's life has value so long as one attributes value to the life of others, by means of love, friendship, indignation and compassion.

There is not a single line in this diary that does not call for a correction or a denial...Yes: throughout these pages I meant what I was writing and I meant the opposite; reading them again I feel completely lost...I was lying to myself. How I lied to myself!

You have to start from where you are today and from what can be done.

The nearer I come to the end of my days, the more I am enabled to see that strange thing, a life, and to see it whole.

Given masculine norms, it is clear that women are more likely to be considered crazy - I'm not saying to be crazy.