I have often been downcast, but never in despair.

Parents can only give good advice or put them on the right paths, but the final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.

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?

Misfortunes never come singly.

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.

Outside, you don't hear a single bird, and a deathly, oppressive silence hangs over the house and clings to me as if it were going to drag me into the deepest regions of the underworld.... I wander from room to room, climb up and down the stairs and feel like a songbird whose wings have been ripped off and who keeps hurling itself against the bars of its dark cage.

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