The Annex is an ideal place to hide in. It may be damp and lopsided, but there's probably not a more comfortable hiding place in all of Amsterdam. No, in all of Holland.

What a wonderful thought it is that some of the best days of our lives haven't even happened yet.

And finally I twist my heart round again, so that the bad is on the outside and the good is on the inside, and keep on trying to find a way of becoming what I would so like to be, and could be, if there weren't any other people living in the world.

Who else but me is ever going to read these letters?

Paper is more patient than man.

Our lives are fashioned by our choices. First we make our choices. Then our choices make us.

Our blessed radio. It gives us eyes and ears out into the world. We listen to the German station only for good music. And we listen to the BBC for hope.