I want to go on living even after my death! And therefore I am grateful to God for this gift, this possibility of developing myself and of writing, of expressing all that is in me. I can shake off everything if I write; my sorrows disappear; my courage is reborn. But, and that is the great question, will I ever be able to write anything great, will I ever become a journalist or a writer?

We all live with the objective of being happy; our lives are all different and yet the same.

The world has plenty of room, riches, money and beauty ... Let us begin by dividing it more fairly.

Ordinary people simply don't know what books mean to us, shut up here. Reading, learning, and the radio are our amusements.

I don't dare do anything anymore, 'cause I'm afraid it's not allowed.

I feel the suffering of millions. And yet, when I look up at the sky, I somehow feel that every-thing will change for the better, that this cruelty too shall end, that peace and tranquility will return once more.

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!