Quotes Anne Frank Diary Novels & Stories

the inscribed words intensified my anxiety as I turned over the pages of the diary. Many stuff in there were personal, I hope you don’t expect me to share them. The diary was designed beautifully, a page wrote “is it possible to love someone when you are just sixteen?” the next page inscribed “if only he was not younger than me” I read through some poems which she had composed, sometimes she would inscribe a writing with no contextual meaning. The last paragraph where her writing stopped inscribed “I'm scared – butterflies become afraid right – just one snap and they are dead.” I was lucky to see her coming straight to my direction, I quickly left the diary on its previous spot then reclined

Please help my husband, do not let evil prevail. Stella Montes October 1988 — “Damn!” Ana leaned back, unable to contain her sobs as she read Lady Stella’s diary. She felt like she couldn't continue, as her heart was unable to bear it. But if she didn’t continue, she wouldn’t find the answers to her questions. Ana looked up at the ceiling and took a deep breath, feeling her chest tighten with the knowledge she gained from Lady Stella’s diary. She clenched her fists, realizing the immense suffering the Montes family had endured in a cruel world. Their experiences were so different from hers. They had only experienced half of what she had gone through.

" Annabelle was in the middle of packing when she found this notebook, and, since she was starting a new adventure of sorts, she decided to start writing a little, to entertain her mind, now that the most probable was that she'd be even more lonely than in the house where her parents were all the time. Her pause took a couple of hours as she finished setting her things up, and then she came back to her desk, sat comfortably, and took the fountain pen again. Her moods changed subtly from gloomy and clammed up to depressed and openly emotional. That was something nobody could see, but her newly started diary was going to show from the very start. She restarted her narrative. "We're in the midd

The impact had caused Stella’s old diary to burst open, and his eyes instantly locked onto the handwriting scrawled across the yellowed page. The words stamped themselves directly into his brain: ...Anna’s real mom... Anthony’s heart gave a violent, painful thud against his ribs. The air entirely left his lungs. "Anthony?" Anna’s soft voice echoed from the bed, a hint of confusion in her tone. "Are you okay over there? Did something break?" "Yes! Yes, I'm completely fine," Anthony called back quickly, his voice tight. Moving on pure adrenaline, he hurriedly gathered the loose pages, closing the diary and shoving it securely back into the depths of the bag. He grabbed her phone from the count

Actually interested. I told him everything. Not the summary version — I had given him the summary on the phone, the single sentence that had carried the weight of the morning. I told him the full version. Anna at the door of the café, smaller than expected, the self-contained deliberateness of her movement. The way she had said she had prepared speeches and decided they were wrong. The twelve-year-old who had noticed the font on a birth certificate and filed it. Robert and Linda Park who had been good people and whom she had decided to let rest. The word safe and what it meant to her and why she had needed to establish it before she was willing to come.

“Thank you, Grandma.” “You may go now,” Grandma said. “And remember something… eyes are always watching in this house. Do not trust easily.” A chill crept down Lena’s spine. Back to Her Room Lena walked to her room with the diary and phone in her hands. She sat on her bed, opened the diary, and stared at the first blank page. What should she write? Her fingers shook slightly. The pen touched the paper. She wrote her name first. Then… “I will survive.”

Author's POV After leaving for work the next day, Anne called her friends over and they helped her pack. After about an hour when they were done packing, they set out to leave the house but then the house staff began to ask her questions like where she was going with her boxes. But Anne didn't answer any of them. After loading all her bags into Kiama's booth, Kiama drove Anne and the other ladies to the airport where Anne was going to board a plane out of San Francisco, California.

I read the words and felt a temperature dropping there, in Venice, in 1985. I didn’t know what Anatole was like then—only the shadow of a man through other people’s shutters. But my mother knew. The ink knew. Some men leave footprints. Others leave frightening stares. The page was over. My thumb snagged on the feathered edge of a corner and took a little paper with it. The diary forgave my clumsiness. My mother had the patience of saints and the temper of bad weather; the paper had learned about both the hard way.

A new day, a new hope. Annie marked her diary with the quote and locked the door behind as usual with a smiling face. She really doesn't know to be sad for more than one minute. Hopefully, her leg is fine from yesterday after taking painkillers. She came to the roadside and started checking her wristwatch again and again as she was late by one whole hour. Booking a taxi, she got inside it as she can't delay it further to wait for the bus.

It was decorated with pictures and quotes about success and in the middle a ribbon of light green was pasted, that read 'My dreams and inspiration'. "I encouraged my daughters to preserve newspaper cutouts and other stuff that inspires them in this diary. I did this so when they go to college and they have low moments, they can look at this and find their inspiration back." Danish was watching Vera observe the book with an open mouth. Her fingers trembled as she flipped pages one after another. "I used to maintain a diary like this when I was young." She chewed her shaking bottom lip. "And that's what led me to encourage my daughters, Verena. I'm sorry but I once found your diary at home."