I've reached the point where I hardly care whether I live or die. The world will keep on turning without me, I can't do anything to change events anyway.

Laziness may appear attractive, but work gives satisfaction.

Once again St. Nicholas Day Has even come to our hideaway; It won't be quite as fun, I fear, As the happy day we had last year. Then we were hopeful, no reason to doubt That optimism would win the bout, And by the time this year came round, We'd all be free, and safe and sound. Still, let's not forget it's St. Nicholas Day, Though we've nothing left to give away. We'll have to find something else to do: So everyone please look in their shoe!

In the book Soldiers on the Home Front, I was greatly struck by the fact that in childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and misery than any war hero ever does. An what's her reward for enduring all that pain? She gets pushed aside when she's disfigured by birth, her children soon leave, hear beauty is gone. Women, who struggle and suffer pain to ensure the continuation of the human race, make much tougher and more courageous soldiers than all those big-mouthed freedom-fighting heroes put together.

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.

It must be awful to feel you're not needed.

Whoever doesn't know it must learn and find by experience that a quiet conscience makes one strong.