A life is such a strange object, at one moment translucent, at another utterly opaque, an object I make with my own hands, an object imposed on me, an object for which the world provides the raw material and then steals it from me again, pulverized by events, scattered, broken, scored yet retaining its unity; how heavy it is and how inconsistent: this contradiction breeds many misunderstandings.

To make oneself an object, to make oneself passive, is a very different thing from being a passive object.

One can not start by saying that our earthly destiny has or has not importance, for it depends upon us to give it importance.

What an odd thing a diary is: the things you omit are more important than those you put in.

For years I thought my work still lay ahead, and now I find it is behind me: there was no moment when it took place.

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.

Change your life today. Don't gamble on the future, act now, without delay.