No One Ever Was The Poorer For

I Can Recapture Everything When I Write, My Thoughts, My Ideals And My Fantasies.

What's Done Can't Be Undone, But At Least You Can Keep It From Happening Again.

Ordinary People Simply Don't Know What Books Mean To Us, Shut Up Here. Reading, Learning, And The Radio Are Our Amusements.

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?

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 School Girl. Oh Well, It Doesn’t Matter. I Feel Like Writing.