Deep down, the young are lonelier than the old.

The question is very understandable, but no one has found a satisfactory answer to it so far. Yes, why do they make still more gigantic planes, still heavier bombs and, at the same time, prefabricated houses for reconstruction? Why should millions be spent daily on the war and yet there's not a penny available for medical services, artists, or for poor people? Why do some people have to starve, while there are surpluses rotting in other parts of the world? Oh, why are people so crazy?

Bolkenstein, a Minister, was speaking on the Dutch programme from London, and he said that they ought to make a collection of diaries and letters after the war. Of course, they all made a rush at my diary immediately. Just imagine how interesting it would be if I were to publish a romance of the "Secret Annexe." The title alone would be enough to make people think it was a detective story.

I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.

Boys will be boys. And even that wouldn't matter if only we could prevent girls from being girls.

I simply can't build my hopes on a foundation of confusion, misery and death... I think... peace and tranquillity will return again.

Sometimes I'm so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I long for a word of comfort to help me dig myself out again.