simone-de-beauvoir

Taking without being taken in the anguish of becoming prey is the dangerous game of adolescent feminine sexuality.

: woman is an eminently poetic reality since man projects onto her everything he is not resolved to be.

The little girl feels that her body is escaping her, that it is no longer the clear expression of her individuality: it becomes foreign to her; and at the same moment she is grasped by others as a thing: on the street, eyes follow her, her body is subject to comments; she would like to become invisible; she is afraid of becoming flesh and afraid to show her flesh.

The relation of woman to husband, of daughter to father, of sister to brother, is a relation of vassalage.

The relation of woman to husband, of of daughter to father, of sister to brother, is a relation of vassalage.

If so few female geniuses are found in history, it is because society denies them any means of expression.

she gives birth in pain, she heals males' wounds, she nurses the newborn and buries the dead; of man she knows all that offends his pride and humiliates his will. While inclining before him and submitting flesh to spirit, she remains on the carnal borders of the spirit; and she contests the sharpness of hard masculine architecture by softening the angles; she introduces free luxury and unforeseen grace.

; the man who does not "understand" a woman is happy to replace his subjective deficiency with an objective resistance; instead of admitting his ignorance, he recognizes the presence of a mystery exterior to himself: here is an excuse that flatters his laziness and vanity at the same time.

The feminine body is expected to be flesh, but discreetly so;

I__e done everything I wanted to do, writing books, learning about things, but I__e been swindled all the same because it__ never anything more.

I hadn't known Chancel very well, but ten days earlier I had seen him laughing with the others around the Christmas tree. Maybe Robert was right; the distance between the living and the dead really isn't very great. And yet, like myself, those future corpses who were drinking their coffee in silence appeared ashamed to be so alive.