I long to ride a bike, dance, whistle, look at the world, feel young and know that I'm free, and yet I can't let it show. Just imagine what would happen if all eight of us were to feel sorry for ourselves or walk around with the discontent clearly visible on our faces. Where would that get us?

Misfortunes never come singly.

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

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

The young are not afraid of telling the truth.

I wish to go on living even after my death.

Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction.