He Clings To His Solitude, To His

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?

Who Would Ever Think That So Much Went On In The Soul Of A Young Girl?

In Spite Of Everything I Still Believe That People Are Really Good At Heart. I Simply Can’t Build Up My Hopes On A Foundation Consisting Of Confusion, Misery, And Death. I See The World Gradually Being Turned Into A Wilderness, I Hear The Ever Approaching Thunder, Which Will Destroy Us Too, I Can Feel The Sufferings Of Millions And Yet, If I Look Up Into The Heavens, I Think That It Will All Come Right, That This Cruelty Too Will End, And That Peace And Tranquility Will Return Again.

I Hid Myself Within Myself ... And Quietly Wrote Down All My Joys, Sorrows And Contempt In My Diary.

We’re All Alive, But We Don’t Know Why Or What For; We’re All Searching For Happiness; We’re All Leading Lives Which Are Different And Yet The Same.