This is my favorite Beauvoir tumblr! I'm wondering if you have any ideas for me. I am thinking about getting a tattoo, and when I think about what is important enough to me to permanently have on my body, two things come to mind: philosophy and Beauvoir. If you have any ideas for a Beauvoir-related tattoo I would love to hear! I want something small; I don't think I want an entire quote (I don't think I could choose just one anyway). I'm thinking a word, several words, or a small image.
Thanks for enjoying the Tumblr… Waw, having Beauvoir tattoo is huge commitment with her: what if, instead of a quote, you get one of the most important ideas for her: like “become a woman”, “ambiguity”, or, my favorite “pure transparent freedom”? Hope this helps.
“Il y a une question qu’en vérité je ne me suis pas posée ; le lecteur se la posera peut-être : n’aurais-je pas dû prévenir Sartre de l’imminence de sa mort ? Quand il était à l’hôpital, affaibli, sans ressort, je n’ai pensé qu’à lui dissimuler la gravité de son état. Et avant ? Il m’avait toujours dit qu’en cas de cancer ou d’autre maladie incurable, il voulait savoir. Mais son cas était ambigu. Il était « en danger » ; mais tiendrait-il encore dix ans, comme il le souhaitait, ou tout serait-il fini d’ici un an ou deux ? Tout le monde l’ignorait. Il n’avait aucune disposition à prendre, il n’aurait pas pu mieux se soigner. Et il aimait la vie. Il avait eu bien déjà du mal à assumer sa cécité, ses infirmités. La menace qui pesait sur lui, s’il l’avait plus précisément connue, n’aurait fait qu’inutilement assombrir ses dernières années. De toute façon, je voguais comme lui entre la crainte et l’espoir. Mon silence ne nous a pas séparés. Sa mort nous sépare. Ma mort ne nous réunira pas. C’est ainsi ; il est déjà beau que nos vies aient pu si longtemps s’accorder ».”—Dernier paragraphe de La Cérémonie des adieux, de Simone de Beauvoir. Elle parle de sa culpabilité d’avoir caché à Sartre l’imminence de sa mort. C’est aussi une déclaration d’amour: Mon silence ne nous a pas séparés. Sa mort nous sépare. La mienne ne nous réunira pas. C’est ainsi. Il est déjà beau que nos vies aient pu si longtemps s’accorder.
Hello from New Zealand! I love Simone therefore I love this tumblr :) I am studying sociology and was wondering how you found your degree useful and what work you do as a sociologist? Thanks
Hi! Thanks and so nice you love Simone! Well, at the moment I work as a journalist, and I am positive without my sociology degree I would never be able to understand so many social and political issues I have to write about. But here in Brazil sociologists work mainly as teachers, professors and consultants for NGOs. Hope this helps. And thanks for your message.
“'In a way, literature is truer than life,’ he said to himself. ‘On paper, you say exactly and completely what you feel. How easy it is to break things off on paper! You hate, you shout, you kill, you commit suicide; you carry things to the very end. And that’s why it’s false. But it’s damned satisfying. In life, you’re constantly denying yourself, and others are always contradicting you. On paper, I make time stand still and I impose my convictions on the whole world; they become the only reality.’”—Simone de Beauvoir, The Mandarins, the book was published in 1954 and received the Prix Goncourt, France’s most important literature prize, that same year.
“Un jour, j’avais sept ans, mon grand-père n’y tint plus : il me prit par la main, annonçant qu’il m’emmenait en promenade. Mais, à peine avions-nous tourné le coin de la rue, il me poussa chez le coiffeur en me disant : »Nous allons faire une surprise à ta mère ». J’adorais les surprises. Il y en avait tout le temps chez nous. Cachotteries amusées ou vertueuses, cadeaux inattendus, révélations théâtrales suivies d’embrassements : c’était le ton de notre vie.”—Les mots, Jean-Paul Sartre, 1964.
“The truth is that in order for my freedom not to risk coming to grief against the obstacle which its very engagement has raised, in order that it might still pursue its movement in the face of the failure, it must, by giving itself a particular content, aim by means of it at an end which is nothing else but precisely the free movement of existence. Popular opinion is quite right in admiring a man who, having been ruined or having suffered an accident, knows how to gain the upper hand, that is, renew his engagement in the world, thereby strongly asserting the independence of freedom in relation to thing. Thus, when the sick Van Gosh calmly accepted the prospect of a future in which he would be unable to paint any more, there was no sterile resignation. For him painting was a personal way of life and of communication with others which in another form could be continued even in an asylum. The past will be integrated and freedom will be confirmed in a renunciation of this kind. It will be lived in both heartbreak and joy. In heartbreak, because the project is then robbed of its particularity - it sacrifices its flesh and blood. But in joy, since at the moment one releases his hold, he again finds his hands free and ready to stretch out toward a new future. But this act of passing beyond is conceivable only if what the content has in view is not to bar up the future, but, on the contrary, to plan new possibilities. This brings us back by another route to what we had already indicated. My freedom must not seek to trap being but to disclose it. The disclosure is the transition from being to existence. The goal which my freedom aims at is conquering existence across the always inadequate density of being.”—Simone de Beauvoir, The Ethics of Ambiguity, “Ambiguity and Freedom”
“Apart from her classically featured face, what strikes one about Simone de Beauvoir is her fresh, rosy complexion and her clear blue eyes, extremely young and lively. One gets the impression that she knows and sees everything; this inspires a certain timidity. Her speech is rapid, her manner direct without being brusque, and she is rather smiling and friendly.”—Madeleine Gobeil describing Simone the Beauvoir for The Paris Review, 1965.
Atheistic existentialism, of which I am a representative, declares with greater consistency that if God does not exist there is at least one being whose existence comes before its essence, a being which exists before it can be defined by any conception of it. That being is man or, as Heidegger has…