I'm sad for adults who want to be children. And children who want to be adults.
I can't help telling you that I've begin to feel deserted.
I don't think of all the misery but of the beauty that still remains.
I think it's odd that grown-ups quarrel so easily and so often and about such petty matters. Up to now I always thought bickering was just something children did and that they outgrew it.
I hid myself within myself. . . and quietly wrote down all my joys, sorrows and contempt in my diary.
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. I have made up my mind now to lead a different life from other girls and, later on, different from ordinary housewives. My start has been so very full of interest, and that is the sole reason why I have to laugh at the humorous side of the most dangerous moments.
The young are not afraid of telling the truth.
You can't become another person if you're not self-aware.
The blanket was there, but it was the boy's embrace that covered and warmed him.
Villains are fun. I think the important thing in playing them is that they don't see themselves as villains. It lets you be a little more expansive.
We love, while knowing that someday our love might be lost forever. We laugh as we stride along, even while recognising that doom lies at the end of the road. We give, while comprehending that in the end 'twill all be taken away. we are nothing less then heroes.