安妮日记英文版_安妮·弗兰克-第40章
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at such moments i dont think about all the misery； but about the beauty that still remains。 this is where mother and i differ greatly。 her advice in the face of melancholy is： 〃think about all the suffering in the world and be thankful youre not part of it。〃 my advice is： 〃go outside； to the country； enjoy the sun and all nature has to offer。 go outside and try to recapture the happiness within yourself； think of all the beauty in yourself and in everything around you and be happy。鈥�
i dont think mothers advice can be right； because what are you supposed to do if you bee part of the suffering？ youd be pletely lost。 on the contrary； beauty remains； even in misfortune。 if you just look for it； you discover more and more happiness and regain your balance。 a person whos happy will make others happy； a person who has courage and faith will never die in misery！
yours； anne
m。 frank
wednesday； march 8； 1944
margot and i have been writing each other notes； just for fun； of course。
anne： its strange； but i can only remember the day after what has happened the night before。 for example； i suddenly remembered that mr。 dussel was snoring loudly last night。 （its now quarter to three on wednesday af… ternoon and mr。 dussel is snoring again； which is why it flashed through my mind； of course。） when i had to use the potty； i deliberately made more noise to get the snoring to stop。
margot： which is better； the snoring or the gasping for air？
anne： the snorings better； because it stops when i make noise； without waking the person in question。
what i didnt write to margot； but what ill confess to you； dear kitty； is that ive been dreaming of peter a great deal。 the night before last i dreamed i was skating right here in our living room with that little boy from the apollo ice…skating rink； he was with his sister； the girl with the spindly legs who always wore the same blue dress。 i introduced myself； overdoing it a bit； and asked him his name。 it was peter。
in my dream i wondered just how many peters i actually knew！
then i dreamed we were standing in peters room； facing each other beside the stairs。
i said something to him； he gave me a kiss； but replied that he didnt love me all that much and that i shouldnt flirt。 in a desperate and pleading voice i said； 〃im not flirting； peter！鈥�
when i woke up； i was glad peter hasnt said it after all。
last night i dreamed we were kissing each other； but peters cheeks were very disappointing： they werent as soft as they looked。 they were more like fathers cheeks the cheeks of a man who already shaves。
friday； march 10； 1944
my dearest kitty；
the proverb 〃misfortunes never e singly〃 defi… nitely applies to today。 peter just got through saying it。 let me tell you all the awful things that have happened and that are still hanging over our heads。
first； miep is sick； as a result of henk and aagjes wedding yesterday。 she caught cold in the westerkerk； where the service was held。 second； mr。 kleiman hasnt returned to work since the last time his stomach started bleeding； so beps been left to hold down the fort alone。 third； the police have arrested a man （whose name i wont put in writing）。 its terrible not only for him； but for us as well； since hes been supplying us with potatoes； butter and jam。 mr。 m。； as ill call him； has five children under the age of thirteen； and another on the way。
last night we had another little scare： we were in the middle of dinner when suddenly someone knocked on the wall next door。 for the rest of the evening we were nervous and gloomy。
lately i havent been at all in the mood to write down whats been going on here。 ive been more wrapped up in myself。 dont get me wrong； im terribly upset about whats happened to poor； good…hearted mr。 m。； but theres not much room for him in my diary。
tuesday； wednesday and thursday i was in peters room from four…thirty to five…fifteen。 we worked on our french and chatted about one thing and another。 i really look forward to that hour or so in the afternoon； but best of all is that i think peters just as pleased to see me。
yours； anne
m。 frank
the diary of a young girl 213 saturday； march 11； 1944
dearest kitty；
i havent been able to sit still lately。 i wander up… stairs and down and then back again。 i like talking to peter； but im always afraid of being a nuisance。 hes told me a bit about the past； about his parents and about himself； but its not enough； and every five minutes i wonder why i find myself longing for more。 he used to think i was a real pain in the neck； and the feeling was mutual。 ive changed my mind； but how do i know hes changed his？ i think he has； but that doesnt necessarily mean we have to bee the best of friends； although as far as im concerned； it would make our time here more bearable。 but i wont let this drive me crazy。 i spend enough time thinking about him and dont have to get you all worked up as well； simply because im so miserable！
sunday； march 12； 1944
dearest kitty；
things are getting crazier here as the days go by。
peter hasnt looked at me since yesterday。 hes been acting as if hes mad at me。 im doing my best not to chase after him and to talk to him as little as possible； but its
not easy！ whats going on； what makes him keep me at arms length one minute and rush back to my side the next？ perhaps im imagining that its worse than it really is。
perhaps hes just moody like me； and tomorrow everything will be all right again！
i have the hardest time trying to maintain a normal facade when im feeling so wretched and sad。 i have to talk； help around the house； sit with the others and； above all； act cheerful！ most of all i miss the outdoors and having a place where i can be alone for as long as i want！ i think im getting everything all mixed up； kitty； but then； im in a state of utter confusion： on the one hand； im half crazy with desire for him； can hardly be in the same room without looking at him； and on the other hand； i wonder why he should matter to me so much and why i cant be calm again！
day and night； during every waking hour； i do nothing but ask myself； 〃have you given him enough chance to be alone？ have you been spending too much time upstairs？ do you talk too much about serious subjects hes not yet ready to talk about？ maybe he doesnt even like you？ has it all been your imagination？ but then why has he told you so much about himself？ is he sorry he did？〃 and a whole lot more。
yesterday afternoon i was so worn out by the sad news from the outside that i lay down on my divan for a nap。 all i wanted was to sleep and not have to think。 i slept until four； but then i had to go next door。 it wasnt easy； answering all mothers questions and inventing an excuse to explain my nap to father。 i pleaded a headache； which wasnt a lie； since i did have one。 。 。 on the inside！
ordinary people； ordinary girls； teenagers like myself； would think im a little nuts with all my self…pity。 but thats just it。 i pour my heart out to you； and the rest of the time im as impudent； cheerful and self…confident as possible to avoid questions and keep from getting on my own nerves。
margot is very kind and would like me to confide in her； but i cant tell her everything。 she takes me too seriously； far too seriously； and spends a lot of time thinking about her loony sister； looking at me closely whenever i open my mouth and wondering； 〃is she acting； or does she really mean it？鈥�
its because were always together。 i dont want the person i confide in to be around me all the time。 when will i untangle my jumbled thoughts？ when will i find inner peace again？
yours； anne
tuesday； march 14； 1944
dearest kitty；
it might be amusing for you （though not for me） to hear what were going to eat today。 the cleaning lady is working downstairs； so at the moment im seated at the van daans oilcloth…covered table with a handkerchief sprinkled with fragrant prewar perfume pressed to my nose and mouth。 you probably dont have the faintest idea what im talking about； so let me 〃begin at the begin… ning。〃 the people who supply us with food coupons have been arrested； so we have just our five black…market ra… …； tion books…no coupons； no fats and oils。 since miep and mr。 kleiman are sick again； bep cant manage the shop… ping。 the food is wretched； and so are we。 as of tomor… row； we wont have a scrap of fat； butter or margarine。 we cant eat fried potatoes for breakfast （which weve been doing to save on bread）； so were having hot cereal instead； and because mrs。 van d。 thinks were starving； we bought some half…and…half。 lunch today consists of mashed potatoes and pickled kale。 this explains the precautionary measure with the handkerchief。 you wouldnt believe how much kale can stink when its a few years old！ the kitchen smells like a mixture of spoiled plums； rotten eggs and brine。 ugh； just the thought of having to eat that muck makes me want to throw up！ besides that； our potatoes have contracted such strange diseases that one out of every two buckets of pommes de terre winds up in the garbage。 we entertain ourselves by trying to figure out which disease theyve got； and weve reached the conclusion that they suffer from cancer； smallpox and measles。
