Yes, there is no doubt that paper is patient and as I don't intend to show this cardboard-covered notebook, bearing the proud name of "diary," to anyone, unless I find a real friend, boy or girl, probably nobody cares. And now I come to the root of the matter, the reason for my starting a diary: it is that I have no such real friend.

Live with the objective of being happy.

Whoever doesn't know it must learn and find by experience that a quiet conscience makes one strong.

I'm currently in the middle of a depression. I couldn't really tell you what set it off, but I think it stems from my cowardice, which confronts me at every turn.

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

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

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