There's something happening everyday, but I'm too tired and lazy to write it all down.

What I condemn are our system of values and the men who don't acknowledge how great, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women's share in society is.

I want something from Daddy that he is not able to give me. ... It is only that I long for Daddy's real love: not only as his child, but for me - Anne, myself.

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.

Who would ever think that so much went on in the soul of a young girl?

I soothe my conscience now with the thought that it is better for hard words to be on paper than that Mummy should carry them in her heart.

Looking back, I realize that this period of my life has irrevocably come to a close; my happy-go-lucky, carefree schooldays are gone forever. I don't even miss them. I've outgrown them. I can no longer just kid around, since my serious side is always there.