Anne Frank Quotes - Page 8

I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... I think... peace and tranquillity will return again.

Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally. Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.

I feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while my dearest friends have been knocked down or have fallen into a gutter somewhere out in the cold night. I get frightened when I think of close friends who have now been delivered into the hands of the cruelest brutes that walk the earth. And all because they are Jews!

I had an occasional flash of understanding, but then got selfishly wrapped up again in my own problems and pleasures.

But I won't bore you any longer on the subject of old men. It won't make things any better and all my plans of revenge (such as disconnecting the lamp, shutting the door, hiding his clothes) must be abandoned in order to keep the peace. Oh, I'm becoming so sensible!

Crying can bring relief, as long as you don't cry alone.

I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my diary. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I-nor for that matter anyone else-will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen -year -old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

Bolkenstein, a Minister, was speaking on the Dutch programme from London, and he said that they ought to make a collection of diaries and letters after the war. Of course, they all made a rush at my diary immediately. Just imagine how interesting it would be if I were to publish a romance of the "Secret Annexe." The title alone would be enough to make people think it was a detective story.

I want something from Daddy that he is not able to give me. ... It is only that I long for Daddy's real love: not only as his child, but for me - Anne, myself.

It is becoming a bad dream-- in the daytime as well as at night. I see him nearly all the time and can't get at him, I mustn't show anything, must remain gay while I'm really in despair.

We lit the stove a few days ago and the entire room is filled with smoke. I prefer central heating, and I'm probably not the only one.

Ordinary people don't know how much books can mean to someone who's cooped up.

I'm sentimental--I know. I'm desperate and silly--I know that too. Oh, help me!

Then I fall asleep with a stupid feeling of wishing to be different from what I am or from what I want to be; perhaps to behave differently from the way I want to behave or do behave.

Thinking about the suffering of those you hold dear can reduce you to tears; in fact, you could spend the whole day crying.

I simply can't imagine the world will ever be normal again for us. I do talk about "after the war," but it's as if I'm talking about a castle in the air, something that can never come true.

It won't take long before I explode with pent-up rage.

Sometimes I believe that God wants to try me, both now and later on; I must become good through my own efforts, without examples and without good advice.

It must be awful to feel you're not needed.

This week I've been reading a lot and doing little work. That's the way things ought to be. That's surely the road to success.

I must work, so as not to be a fool, to get on, to become a journalist, because that's what I want!... I can't imagine that I would have to lead the same sort of life as Mummyand all the women who do their work and are then forgotten. I must have something besides a husband and children, something that I can devote myself to!

I can't let them see my doubts, or the wounds they've inflicted on me.

Who knows, perhaps he doesn't care about me at all and look at the others in just the same way.

This is a photograph of me as I wish I looked all the time. Then I might have a chance of getting in Hollywood.

Sometimes I'm so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comfort to help me dig myself out again.