Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.

Everyone thinks I'm showing off when I talk, ridiculous when I'm silent, insolent when I answer, cunning when I have a good idea, lazy when I'm tired, selfish when I eat one bite more than I should.

I do my best to please everybody, far more than they'd ever guess. I try to laugh it all off, because I don't want to let them see my trouble.

I am what a romantic movie is to a profound thinker - a mere diversion, a comic interlude, something that is soon forgotten.

But I won't bore you any longer on the subject of old men. It won't make things any better and all my plans of revenge (such as disconnecting the lamp, shutting the door, hiding his clothes) must be abandoned in order to keep the peace. Oh, I'm becoming so sensible!

I hid myself within myself ... and quietly wrote down all my joys, sorrows and contempt in my diary.

I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.