Top 235 Quotes & Sayings by Anne Frank - Page 4

Misfortunes never come singly.

I want to go on living even after my death, And therefore I am grateful to God For giving this gift... Of expressing all that is in me.

Because only then does one feel that all is as it should be and that God wishes to see people happy, amidst the simple beauty of nature. I firmly believe that nature brings solace in all troubles.

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 can't let them see my doubts, or the wounds they've inflicted on me.

Sleep makes the silence and the terrible fear go by more quickly, helps pass the time, since it's impossible to kill.

We lit the stove a few days ago and the entire room is filled with smoke. I prefer central heating, and I'm probably not the only one.

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

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

It won't take long before I explode with pent-up rage.

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

It is becoming a bad dream-- in the daytime as well as at night. I see him nearly all the time and can't get at him, I mustn't show anything, must remain gay while I'm really in despair.

I believe that in the course of the next century the notion that it's a woman's duty to have children will change and make way for the respect and admiration of all women, who bear their burdens without complaint or a lot of pompous words!

The reason for my starting a diary is that I have no real friend.

I also have a brand-new prescription for gunfire jitters: When the shooting gets loud, proceed to the nearest wooden staircase. Run up and down a few times, making sure to stumble at least once. What with the scratches and the noise of running and falling, you won't even be able to hear the shooting, much less worry about it. Yours truly has put this magic formula to use, with great success!

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.

If God lets me live, I shall attain more than Mummy ever has done, I shall not remain insignificant, I shall work in the world and for mankind!

Don't aim for success if you want it; just do what you love and believe in, and it will come naturally. Despite everything, I believe that people are really good at heart.

Let's not talk about it any more, but if you still want anything please write to me about it, because I can say what I mean much better on paper.

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 feel wicked sleeping in a warm bed, while my dearest friends have been knocked down or have fallen into a gutter somewhere out in the cold night. I get frightened when I think of close friends who have now been delivered into the hands of the cruelest brutes that walk the earth. And all because they are Jews!

At any rate, Daddy usually comes to my defence. Without him I wouldn't be able to stick out here.

I simply can't imagine the world will ever be normal again for us. I do talk about "after the war," but it's as if I'm talking about a castle in the air, something that can never come true.

Even when I was older, I couldn't stop asking questions.

This week I've been reading a lot and doing little work. That's the way things ought to be. That's surely the road to success.

I... keep trying to find a way to become what I'd like to be and what I could be if... if only there were no other people in the world.

I can't help telling you that I've begin to feel deserted.

I want to go on living after my death!

He clings to his solitude, to his affected indifference and his grown-up ways, but it's just an act, so as never, never to show his real feelings.

Crying can bring relief, as long as you don't cry alone.

I'm sentimental--I know. I'm desperate and silly--I know that too. Oh, help me!

Ordinary people don't know how much books can mean to someone who's cooped up.

Don't be too assuming, it doesn't get you anywhere.

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

Paper is more patient than man.

I had an occasional flash of understanding, but then got selfishly wrapped up again in my own problems and pleasures.

Then I fall asleep with a stupid feeling of wishing to be different from what I am or from what I want to be; perhaps to behave differently from the way I want to behave or do behave.

Thinking about the suffering of those you hold dear can reduce you to tears; in fact, you could spend the whole day crying.

I must work, so as not to be a fool, to get on, to become a journalist, because that's what I want!... I can't imagine that I would have to lead the same sort of life as Mummyand all the women who do their work and are then forgotten. I must have something besides a husband and children, something that I can devote myself to!

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.

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

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.

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.

I don't dare do anything anymore, 'cause I'm afraid it's not allowed.

Who knows, perhaps he doesn't care about me at all and look at the others in just the same way.

Another fact that doesn't exactly brighten up our days is that Mr. Van Maaren, the man who works in the warehouse, is getting suspicious about the Annex.

it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.

I haven't written for a few days, because I wanted first of all to think about my diary. It's an odd idea for someone like me to keep a diary; not only because I have never done so before, but because it seems to me that neither I-nor for that matter anyone else-will be interested in the unbosomings of a thirteen -year -old schoolgirl. Still, what does that matter? I want to write, but more than that, I want to bring out all kinds of things that lie buried deep in my heart.

leave me in peace, let me sleep one night at least without my pillow being wet with tears, my eyes burning and my head throbbing

I had to hold my head up high and put a bold face on things, but the thoughts keep coming anyways.

I wonder if anyone can ever succeed in making their children content.

One gets on better in life if one is not over modest.

by thinking, nobody can ever get worse but will only get better.

This is a photograph of me as I wish I looked all the time. Then I might have a chance of getting in Hollywood.

Sometimes I believe that God wants to try me, both now and later on; I must become good through my own efforts, without examples and without good advice.