Misfortunes Never Come Singly.

No One Ever Became Poor From Giving.

Looking Back, I Realize That This Period Of My Life Has Irrevocably Come To A Close; My Happy-go-lucky, Carefree Schooldays Are Gone Forever. I Don't Even Miss Them. I've Outgrown Them. I Can No Longer Just Kid Around, Since My Serious Side Is Always There.

I Must Uphold My Ideals, For Perhaps The Time Will Come When I Shall Be Able To Carry Them Out.

I Want To Go On Living Even After My Death! And Therefore I Am Grateful To God For This Gift, This Possibility Of Developing Myself And Of Writing, Of Expressing All That Is In Me. I Can Shake Off Everything If I Write; My Sorrows Disappear; My Courage Is Reborn. But, And That Is The Great Question, Will I Ever Be Able To Write Anything Great, Will I Ever Become A Journalist Or A Writer?

A Quiet Conscience Makes One Strong!