Anne Frank's "Diary of a Young Girl" Part 2 140 words

He's amused us more than once by trying to pass on the news he's just heard, since the message invariably gets garbled in transmission.

The day before yesterday Jan ate carrots with green peas, yesterday he had the leftovers, today she's cooking marrowfat peas, and tomorrow she's plan- ning to mash the remaining carrots with potatoes.

The Amsterdammers who saw it seethed with rage at such a dastardly deed.

I washed my hair yesterday, and because I knew he was next door, I was very rambunctious.

Yours, AnneTHURSDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1943 Dearest Kitty, I have a good title for this chapter: Ode to My Fountain Pen In Memoriam My fountain pen was always one of my most prized possessions; I valued it highly, especially because it had a thick nib,

Father doesn't begrudge us those few hours and thinks it's nice we get along so well.

The nicest part is being able to write down all my thoughts and feelings; otherwise, I'd absolutely suffocate.

He's amused us more than once by trying to pass on the news he's just heard, since the message invariably gets garbled in transmission.

The reason for the disagreement wasn't particularly interesting in and of itself, but Peter has apparently taken the matter very much to heart, because this morning, when I was rummaging around in the crate of books in the attic, Peter came up and

For a long time we went everywhere together, but aside from that, my love was unrequited until Peter crossed my path.

It has led a long and interesting fountain-pen life, which I will summarize below.

The electric clocks on street corners are dismantled, public phones are stripped down to the last wire.

Does Hanneli really and truly believe in God, or has religion merely been foisted upon her?

Yours, Anne TUESDAY, FEBRUARY 15, 1944 The minor run-in with Dussel had several repercussions, for which he had only himself to blame.

They give the cat an anesthetic, of course."

Mother's horrible, Father's nice, which makes him even more exasperating, and Margot's the worst, since she takes advantage of my smiling face to claim me for herself, when all I want is to be left alone.

Margot pored through the thick brochure three timeswithout finding anything to her liking and within her budget.

I've stopped looking at all the discussions and arguments from my family's biased point of view.

I take a leisurely look at the person called "Anne Frank" and browse through the pages of her life as though she were a stranger.

On Wednesday, September 8, we were listening to the seven o'clock news when we heard an announcement: "Here is some of the best news of the war so far: Italy has capitulated."

It's getting to be a bore, and it's all I can do to keep from turning into a dreary old crone myself!

I was suffering then (and still do) from moods that kept my head under water (figuratively speaking) and allowed me to see things only from my own perspective, without calmly considering what the others -- those whom I, with my mercurial temperamen

The war is at an impasse, spirits are low.

All the conflicts about our upbringing, about not pampering children, about the food -- about everything, absolutely everything -- might have taken a different turn if we'd remained open and on friendly terms instead of always seeing the worst side

Peter has amazing presence of mind in the face of these so-called witticisms.

My stiff limbs are well on the way to becoming as limber as they used to be.

This incident is much more complicated than the last one, in July 1943.

Are most people so stingy and selfish?

He never deviates or lets himself be swayed by the voices outside the door, begging him to open up before a disaster occurs.

Nor did he have any ulterior motives.

Optimists and pessimists -- not to mention the realists -- air their opinions with unflagging energy, and as with everything else, they're all certain that they have a monopoly on the truth.

When I think how touchy everyone is here, I can just imagine what it must be like at the Voskuijls'.

He actually had Miep bring him a book, an anti-Mussolini tirade, which has been banned.

We wouldn't care what Mr. van Maaren thought of the situation except that he's known to be unreliable and to possess a high degree of curiosity.

But I don't look at him long, because the time whizzes by and before you know it, it'll be 4 P.M. and the pedantic Dr. Dussel will be standing with the clock in his hand because I'm one minute ,late clearing off the table.

Of course, everyone pounced on my diary.

Mr. Kleiman is still in bed and has eaten nothing but gruel for three weeks.

I think Pim told me because he, who knows the "intimate secrets" of so many others, needed to express his own feelings for once; Pim never talks about himself, and I don't think Margot has any inkling of what he's been through.

Then I'd chastise myself for playing the victim, when really, I'd always been so fortunate.

I'm despondent and foolish, I know that too.

Sis Heyster also writes that girls my age feel very insecure about themselves and are just beginning to discover that they're individuals with their own ideas, thoughts and habits.

I also talked to Margot about Father and Mother, about how nice it could be here if they weren't so aggravating.

This morning I had "the giggles"; you know, the kind we used to have at school.

It's made him very accommodating, since he's not blind to Mother's faults.

The Germans are ranting and raving in all the newspapers at the treachery of Badoglio and the Italian king.

After that it was Hanneli, who still symbolizes to me the suffering of my friends as well as that of Jews in general, so that when I'm praying for her, I'm also praying for all the Jews and all those in need.

Everyone was rather amazed at the sheer size of the gift.

Optimists and pessimists -- not to mention the realists -- air their opinions with unflagging energy, and as with everything else, they're all certain that they have a monopoly on the truth.

He was surprised, but he went on through and was even more astonished to see that the alcove doors were open as well and that there was a terrible mess in the front office.

Last night I was annoyed when Mrs. van D. scoffed, "The thinker!"

I apply the same tactic when I have to eat something I loathe.

It gave me a wonderful feeling when I looked into his dark blue eyes and saw how bashful my unexpected visit had made him.

Margot and I received a brooch made out of a penny, all bright and shiny.

At the moment, the tempestuous quarrels have subsided; only Dussel and the van Daans are still at loggerheads.

I said that my noise and exuberance and his silence were two sides of the same coin, and that I also liked peace and quiet but don't have anything for myself alone, except my diary, and that everyone would rather see the back of me, starting with M

Margot asked, somewhat perturbed.

No squabbles, though that probably won't last long.

[*A well-known expression: "The spirit of the man is great, How puny are his deeds."

At the moment, the tempestuous quarrels have subsided; only Dussel and the van Daans are still at loggerheads.

All the bickering, tears and nervous tension have become such a stress and strain that I fall into my bed at night crying and thanking my lucky stars that I have half an hour to myself.

He's not one who can be put off with a flimsy excuse.

I fondle my pendant, press it to my lips and think, "What do I care!

And when you think that she has her regular office work to do, that Mr. Kleiman is sick, that Miep is home with a cold and that Bep herself has a sprained ankle, boyfriend troubles and a grouchy father, it's no wonder she's at the end of her tether

Mother can barely stifle a laugh, and I stare straight ahead.

When I get up in the morning, another very disagreeable moment, I leap out of bed, think to myself, "You'll be slipping back under the covers soon," walk to the window, take down the blackout screen, sniff at the crack until Ifeel a bit of fresh ai

I would never have refused anyone who wanted to peek at my answers, I was magnanimous with my candy, and I wasn't stuck-up.

We've all been a little confused this past week because our dearly beloved Westertoren bells have been carted off to be melted down for the war, so we have no idea of the exact time, either night or day.

I wouldn't want to intrude, not for all the money in the world.

The British and the Russians are probably exaggerating for propaganda purposes, just like the Germans."

Yours, Anne A Daily Chore in Our Little Community: Peeling Potatoes!

Still, all this might be bearable if only the grown-ups weren't in the habit of repeating the stories we hear from Mr. Kleiman, jan or Miep, each time embellishing them with a few details of their own, so that I often have to pinch my arm under the

The warehouse is so unstable it'll collapse if there's a flood."

I sat there on the toilet, fully dressed, long after I was through, my tears leaving dark spots on the red of my apron, and I felt utterly dejected.

Bep is still in isolation, but any day now her sister will no longer be contagious.

I could read his innermost thoughts, and in his face I saw a look of helplessness and uncertainty as to how to behave, and at the same time a flicker of awareness of his masculinity.

"God Save the King," the American national anthem and the Russian' 'Internationale" were played.

So now you have a rough idea of what's going on, don't you, Kit? This lighthearted banter is all very amusing, but reality will prove otherwise.

So why don't they try to make amends by asking them what's what?

That struck me as odd, and I often wondered why people were so mysterious or obnoxious when they talked about this subject.

The cleaning lady is working downstairs, so at the moment I'm seated at the van Daans' oilcloth-covered table with a handkerchief sprinkled with fragrant prewar perfume pressed to my nose and mouth.

Two bolsters can be piled on top of each other.

Not a whit.

I have the hardest time trying to maintain a normal facade when I'm feeling so wretched and sad.

A major stumbling block for the adults -- though in my opinion it's no more than a pebble -- is that they're afraid their children will no longer look upon marriage as sacred and pure once they realize that, in most cases, this purity is a lot of n

If you analyze the discussions, you realize she's not the subject, but the guilty party!

I'd arrive home in high spirits, chatting nineteen to the dozen, until the events of the morning would repeat themselves and I'd leave the room with my schoolbag in my hand and a pensive look on my face.

Like you, I long for freedom and fresh air, but I think we've been amply compensated for their loss.

The most bizarre stories are making the rounds, yet most of them are really true.

Pst, pst, like a cat luring a mouse from its hole, they goad each other into quarrels and dissent.

In Hilversum, new registration cards were issued.

This tricky question elicited a variety of responses: "It'll be impossible to walk or ride a bike, so we'll have to wade through the water."

The atmosphere is stifling, sluggish, leaden.

As long as this exists, and that should be forever, I know that there will be solace for every sorrow, whatever the circumstances.

My conquest could never be so challenging, so beautiful and so nice with someone of the same sex!

But then she'd snap at me for having made some comment or other (and I'd go off to school feeling completely discouraged.

The ration board, the police, the officials-they're all either helping their fellow citizens or denouncing them and sending them off to prison.

Although I'm extremely diligent when it comes to my schoolwork and can pretty much follow the BBC Home Service on the radio, I still spend many of my Sundays sorting out and looking over my movie-star collection, which has grown to a very respectab

I can only cry out and implore, "Oh, ring, ring, open wide and let us out!"

It looms before us like an impenetrable wall, trying to crush us, but not yet able to.

The choicest potatoes, the tastiest morsel, the tenderest bit of whatever there is, that's Madame's motto.

He's amused us more than once by trying to pass on the news he's just heard, since the message invariably gets garbled in transmission.

I hid inside myself, thought of no one but myself and calmly wrote down all my joy, sarcasm and sorrow in my diary.

Mrs. van D. dons a long apron, a black wool jacket and overshoes, winds a red wool scarf around her head, scoops up a bundle of dirty laundry and, with a well-rehearsed washerwoman's nod, heads downstairs.

It's cozy and snug sitting beside him on a chair and looking outside.

My mother, incidentally, is also bursting with curiosity and simply dying to ask what we talk about, only she's secretly afraid I'd refuse to answer.

Mrs. van D. changes shoes and shuffles through the room in her slippers; Mr. van D. too -- a veritable Charlie Chaplin.

I think of going into hiding, my health and my whole being as das Cute; Peter's love (which is still so new and fragile and which neither of us dares to say aloud), the future, happiness and love as das Liebe; the world, nature and the tremendous b

Yours, Anne SATURDAY, AUGUST 7, 1943 Dearest Kitty, A few weeks ago I started writing a story, something I made up from beginning to end, and I've enjoyed it so much that the products of my pen are piling up.

A good example of the explicit warnings of the male contingent is the following conversation with Jan: Annex: "We're afraid that when the Germans retreat, they'll take the entire population with them."

I clamber up the stairs to get my doggie dish.

Mr. van D. turns white, and when she notices it, Mrs. van D. turns red, but she's not about to be deterred: "The British aren't doing a thing!"

I'll take every opportunity to speak openly to Mrs. van D. about our many differences and not be afraid -- despite my reputation as a smart aleck -- to offer my impartial opinion.

We played with Boche, had a good time, chatted a bit and finally sauntered through the long warehouse to the door.

And we'll order some extra cereal grains to supplement the sixty-five pounds we already have.

We're still unsure of ourselves and are too vulnerable, emotionally, to be dealt with so roughly.

Or how many epidemics are raging here.

A good example of the explicit warnings of the male contingent is the following conversation with Jan: Annex: "We're afraid that when the Germans retreat, they'll take the entire population with them."

But there's one thing I can't do, and that's to love Mother with the devotion of a child.I soothe my conscience with the thought that it's better for unkind words to be down on paper than for Mother to have to carry them around in her heart.

Dussel is in a turmoil and we don't know why.

Honestly, can't she credit me with some intuition?

Mother received a plant in honor of the occasion, but Mrs. van Daan, who had alluded to the date for weeks and made nobones about the fact that she thought Dussel should treat us to dinner, received nothing.

It's made him very accommodating, since he's not blind to Mother's faults.

How could someone like Peter, who loves peace and quiet, possibly stand my bustle and noise?

The Germans are ranting and raving in all the newspapers at the treachery of Badoglio and the Italian king.

Father and Mother's biggest mistake in dealing with the van Daans is that they're never candid and friendly (admittedly, the friendliness might have to be feigned).

He consumes enormous portions, and "no" is not part of his vocabulary, whether the food is good or bad.

Bias tape is threaded through the top and tied just above the bust.

Margot pored through the thick brochure three timeswithout finding anything to her liking and within her budget.

If I'm engrossed in a book, I have to rearrange my thoughts before I can mingle with other people, because otherwise they might think I was strange.

Clustered around the radio, they all listen raptly to the BBC. This is the only time the members of the Annex family don't interrupt each other, since even Mr. van Daan can't argue with the speaker.

He clings to his masculinity, his solitude and his feigned indif- ference so he can maintain his role, so he'll never, ever have to show his feelings.

I get dizzy just thinking about all the cures I've been subjected to: sweating out the fever, steam treatment, wet compresses, dry compresses, hot drinks, swabbing my throat, lying still, heating pad, hot-water bottles, lemonade and, every two hour

His is too superficial, likes to flirt and doesn't concern herself much with what goes on in his head.