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!

Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I’ve never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year old school girl. Oh well, it doesn’t matter. I feel like writing.

If I'm engrossed in a book, I have to rearrange my thoughts before I can mingle with other people, because otherwise they might think I was strange.

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

At any rate, Daddy usually comes to my defence. Without him I wouldn't be able to stick out here.

Boys will be boys. And even that wouldn't matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls.

In the long run, the sharpest weapon of all is a kind and gentle spirit.