A Quote by Simone de Beauvoir

Anger or revolt that does not get into the muscles remains a figment of the imagination. — © Simone de Beauvoir
Anger or revolt that does not get into the muscles remains a figment of the imagination.
It's just a figment of the imagination.
Man - a figment of God's imagination.
Equilibrium is a figment of the human imagination.
Sometimes I feel like a figment of my own imagination.
I am ignoring you. In fact, I think you are a figment of my imagination.
A figment of the imagination is just a harmless illusion - unless you are victim of it.
There is no such thing as separation of church and state. It is merely a figment of the imagination of infidels.
Think of anger as a muscle. The way you express anger isn't the way that I do, or you. If you have a good director, you will find that he's getting you to use an entirely different muscle that you never even knew you had - it's real hard and sore, then after a while it becomes normal. And you discover all these new muscles when you enter a new character - that's what a director does for you.
I would like to be a figment of my own imagination, but belly and bowels will not permit.
You cannot condemn a man for what may only be a figment of your own imagination.
I'm fairly certain. I could be some ghastly hallucination, a figment of my own imagination
I believe this notion of separation of church and state was the figment of some infidel's imagination.
I am a being comprised of letters, a character created by sentences, a figment of imagination formed through fiction.
To revolt within society in order to make it a little better, to bring about certain reforms, is like the revolt of prisoners to improve their life within the prison walls; and such revolt is no revolt at all, it is just mutiny. Do you see the difference? Revolt within society is like the mutiny of prisoners who want better food, better treatment within the prison; but revolt born of understanding is an individual breaking away from society, and that is creative revolution.
Let’s take this figure of the feminist killjoy seriously. Does the feminist kill other people’s joy by pointing out moments of sexism? Or does she expose the bad feelings that get hidden, displaced, or negated under public signs of joy? Does bad feeling enter the room when somebody expresses anger about things, or could anger be the moment when the bad feelings that circulate through objects get brought to the surface in a certain way?
My manic depression was ravaging my life, but because nobody could see it, many people thought it was a figment of my imagination.
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