In spite of everything, I still believe that people are really good at heart.

No one knows Anne's better side, and that's why most people can't stand me. Oh, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that, everyone's had enough of me to last a month.

I have often been downcast but never in despair; I regard our hiding as a dangerous adventure, romantic and interesting at the same time. In my diary, I treat all the privations as amusing.

When I write, I can shake off all my cares.

I have a family, loving aunts, and a good home. No, on the surface I seem to have everything except my one true friend. All I think about when I'm with friends is having a good time. I can't bring myself to talk about anything but ordinary everyday things. We don't seem to be able to get any closer, and that's the problem.

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.

If I haven't any talent for writing books or newspaper articles, well, then I can always write for myself.

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

I'm afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover I have another side, a better and finer side. I'm afraid they'll mock me, think I'm ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I'm used to not being taken seriously, but only the 'light-hearted' Anne is used to it and can put up with it; the 'deeper' Anne is too weak.

Writing in a diary is a really strange experience for someone like me. Not only because I've never written anything before, but also because it seems to me that later on neither I nor anyone else will be interested in the musings of a thirteen-year-old schoolgirl.

The final forming of a person's character lies in their own hands.

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