FRIDAY, JUNE 9, 1944Dearest Kitty,Great news of the invasion! The Allies have taken Bayeux, a village on thecoast of France, and are now fighting for Caen. They’re clearly intending tocut off the peninsula where Cherbourg is located. Every evening the warcorrespondents report on the difficulties, the courage and the fighting spirit ofthe army. To get their stories, they pull off the most amazing feats. A few ofthe wounded who are already back in England also spoke on the radio.Despite the miserable weather, the planes are flying dthgently back and forth.We heard over the BBC that Churchill wanted to land along with the troopson D Day, but Eisenhower and the other generals managed to talk him out ofit. Just imagine, so much courage for such an old man he must be at leastseventy!The excitement here has died down somewhat; still, we’re all hoping that thewar will finally be over by the end of the year. It’s about time! Mrs. vanDaan’s constant griping is unbearable; now that she can no longer drive uscrazy with the invasion, she moans and groans all day about the bad weather.If only we could plunk her down in the loft in a bucket of cold water!Everyone in the Annex except Mr. van Daan and Peter has read theHunaarian Rhapsody trilogy, a biography of the composer, piano virtuosoand child prodigy Franz Liszt. It’s very interesting, though in my opinionthere’s a bit too much emphasis on women; Liszt was not only the greatestand most famous pianist of his time, he was also the biggest womanizer, evenat the age of seventy. He had an affair with Countess Marie d’ Agoult,Princess Carolyne Sayn-Wittgenstein, the dancer Lola Montez, the pianistAgnes Kingworth, the pianist Sophie Menter, the Circassian princess OlgaJanina, Baroness Olga Meyen- dorff, actress Lilla what’s-her-name, etc., etc.,and there’s no end to it. Those parts of the book dealing with music and theother arts are much more interesting. Some of the people mentioned areSchumann, Clara Wieck, Hector Berlioz, Johannes Brahms, Beethoven,Joachim, Richard Wagner, Hans von Bulow, Anton Rubinstein, FredericChopin, Victor Hugo, Honore de Balzac, Hiller, Hummel, Czerny, Rossini,Cherubini, Paganini, Mendels- sohn, etc., etc.Liszt appears to have been a decent man, very generous and modest, thoughexceptionally vain. He helped others, put art above all else, was extremelyfond of cognac and women, couldn’t bear the sight of tears, was a gentleman,couldn’t refuse anyone a favor, wasn’t interested in money and cared aboutreligious freedom and the world.Yours, Anne M. Frank314 ANNE FRANKTUESDAY, JUNE 13, 1944Dearest Kit,Another birthday has gone by, so I’m now fifteen. I received quite a few gifts:Springer’s five-volume art history book, a set of underwear, two belts, ahandkerchief, two jars of yogurt, a jar of jam, two honey cookies (small), abotany book from Father and Mother, a gold bracelet from Margot, a stickeralbum from the van Daans, Biomalt and sweet peas from Dussel, candy fromMiep, candy and notebooks from Bep, and the high point: the book MariaTheresa and three slices of full-cream cheese from Mr. Kugler. Peter gave mea lovely bouquet of peonies; the poor boy had put a lot of effort into finding apresent, but nothing quite worked out.The invasion is still going splendidly, in spite of the miserable weather –pouring rains, gale winds and high seas.Yesterday Churchill, Smuts, Eisenhower and Arnold visited the Frenchvillages that the British have captured and liberated. Churchill was on atorpedo boat that shelled the coast. Uke many men, he doesn’t seem to knowwhat fear is -an enviable trait!From our position here in Fort Annex, it’s difficult to gauge the mood of theDutch. No doubt many people are glad the idle (!) British have finally rolledup their sleeves and gotten down to work. Those who keep claim- ing theydon’t want to be occupied by the British don’t realize how unfair they’rebeing. Their line of reasoning boils down to this: England must fight, struggleand sacri- fice its sons to liberate Holland and the other occupied countries.After that the British shouldn’t remain in Hol- land: they should offer theirmost abject apologies to all the occupied countries, restore the Dutch EastIndies to its rightful owner and then return, weakened and impoverished, toEngland. What a bunch of idiots. And yet, as I’ve already said, many Dutchpeople can be counted among their ranks. What would have become ofHolland and its neighbors if England had signed a peace treaty withGermany, as it’s had ample opportunity to do?Holland would have become German, and that would have been the end ofthat!All those Dutch people who still look down on the British, scoff at Englandand its government of old fogies, call the English cowards, yet hate theGermans, should be given a good shaking, the way you’d plump up a pillow.Maybe that would straighten out their jumbled brains!Wishes, thoughts, accusations and reproaches are swirling around in myhead. I’m not really as conceited as many people think; I know my variousfaults and shortcomings better than anyone else, but there’s one difference: Ialso know that I want to change, will change and already have changedgreatly!Why is it, I often ask myself, that everyone still thinks I’m so pushy and sucha know-it-all? Am I really so arrogant?Am I the one who’s so arrogant, or are they? It sounds crazy, I know, but I’mnot going to cross out that last sentence, because it’s not as crazy as it seems.Mrs. van Daan and Dussel, my two chief accusers, are known to be totallyunintelligent and, not to put too fine a point on it, just plain “stupid”! Stupidpeople usually can’t bear it when others do something better than they do; thebest examples of this are those two dummies, Mrs. van Daan and Dussel.Mrs.van D. thinks I’m stupid because I don’t suffer so much from this ailment asshe does, she thinks I’m pushy because she’s even pushier, she thinks mydresses are too short because hers are even shorter, and she thinks I’m such aknow-it-all because she talks twice as much as I do about topics she knowsnothing about. The same goes for Dussel. But one of my favorite sayings is”Where there’s smoke there’s fire,” and I readily admit I’m a know-it-all.What’s so difficult about my personality is that I scold and curse myself muchmore than anyone else does; if Mother adds her advice, the pile of sermonsbecomes so thick that I despair of ever getting through them. Then I talk backand start contradicting everyone until the old famthar Anne refrain inevitablycrops up again: “No one understands me!”This phrase is part of me, and as unlikely as it may seem, there’s a kernel oftruth in it. Sometimes I’m so deeply buried under self-reproaches that I longfor a word of comfort to help me dig myself out again. If only I had someonewho took my feelings seriously. Alas, I haven’t yet found that person, so thesearch must go on.I know you’re wondering about Peter, aren’t you, Kit? It’s true, Peter lovesme, not as a girlfriend, but as a friend.His affection grows day by day, but some mysterious force is holding usback, and I don’t know what it is.Sometimes I think my terrible longing for him was overexaggerated. Butthat’s not true, because if I’m unable to go to his room for a day or two, I longfor him as desperately as I ever did. Peter is kind and good, and yet I can’tdeny that he’s disappointed me in many ways. I especially don’t care for hisdislike of religion, his table conversations and various things of that nature.Still, I’m firmly convinced that we’ll stick to our agreement never to quarrel.Peter is peace-loving, tolerant and extremely easygoing. He lets me say a lotof things to him that he’d never accept from his mother. He’s making adetermined effort to remove the blots from his copybook and keep his affairsin order. Yet why does he hide his innermost self and never allow me access?Of course, he’s much more closed than I am, but I know from experience(even though I’m constantly being accused of knowing all there is to know intheory, but not in practice) that in time, even the most uncommunicativetypes will long as much, or even more, for someone to confide in.Peter and I have both spent our contemplative years in the Annex. We oftendiscuss the future, the past and the present, but as I’ve already told you, I missthe real thing, and yet I know it exists!Is it because I haven’t been outdoors for so long that I’ve become so smittenwith nature? I remember a time when a magnificent blue sky, chirping birds,moonlight and budding blossoms wouldn’t have captivated me. Things havechanged since I came here. One night during the Pentecost holiday, forinstance, when it was so hot, I struggled to keep my eyes open until eleventhirty so I could get a good look at the moon, all on my own for once. Alas,my sacrifice was in vain, since there was too much glare and I couldn’t riskopening a window. An- other time, several months ago, I happened to beupstairs one night when the window was open. I didn’t go back down until ithad to be closed again. The dark, rainy evening, the wind, the racing clouds,had me spellbound; it was the first time in a year and a half that I’d seen thenight face-to-face. After that evening my longing to see it again was evengreater than my fear of burglars, a dark rat-infested house or robberies. I wentdownstairs all by myself and looked out the windows in the kitchen andprivate office. Many people think nature is beautiful, many people sleep fromtime to time under the starry sky, and many people in hospitals and prisonslong for the day when they’ll be free to enjoy what nature has to offer. Butfew are as isolated and cut off as we are from dle joys of nature, which can beshared by rich and poor alike.It’s not just my imagination — looking at dle sky, dle clouds, dle moon anddle stars really does make me feel calm and hopeful. It’s much bettermedicine than valerian or bromide. Nature makes me feel humble and readyto face every blow with courage!As luck would have it, I’m only able — except for a few rare occasions-toview nature through dusty curtains tacked over dirt-caked windows; it takesdle pleasure out of looking. Nature is dle one thing for which dlere is nosubstitute!One of dle many questions that have often bodlered me is why women havebeen, and still are, thought to be so inferior to men. It’s easy to say it’s unfair,but that’s not enough for me; I’d really like to know the reason for this greatinjustice!Men presumably dominated women from the very beginning because of theirgreater physical strength; it’s men who earn a living, beget children and do asthey please. . . Until recently, women silently went along willi this, whichwas stupid, since the longer it’s kept up, the more deeply entrenched itbecomes. Fortunately, education, work and progress have opened women’seyes. In many countries they’ve been granted equal rights; many people,mainly women, but also men, now realize how wrong it was to tolerate thisstate of affairs for so long. Modern women want the right to be completelyindependent!But that’s not all. Women should be respected as well!Generally speaking, men are held in great esteem in all parts ofthe world, sowhy shouldn’t women have their share?Soldiers and war heroes are honored and commemorated, explorers aregranted immortal fame, martyrs are revered, but how many people look uponwomen too as soldiers?In the book Soldiers on the Home Front I was greatly struck by the fact thatin childbirth alone, women commonly suffer more pain, illness and miserythan any war hero ever does. And what’s her reward for enduring all thatpain? She gets pushed aside when she’s disfigured by birth, her children soonleave, her beauty is gone. Women, who struggle and suffer pain to ensure thecon- tinuation of the human race, make much tougher and more courageoussoldiers than all those big-mouthed freedom-fighting heroes put together!I don’t mean to imply that women should stop having children; on thecontrary, nature intended them to, and that’s the way it should be. What Icondemn are our system of values and the men who don’t acknowledge howgreat, difficult, but ultimately beautiful women’s share in society is.I agree completely with Paul de Kruif, the author of this book, when he saysthat men must learn that birth is no longer thought of as inevitable andunavoidable in those parts of the world we consider civthzed. It’s easy formen to talk — they don’t and never will have to bear the woes that women do!I believe that in the course of the next century the notion that it’s a woman’sduty to have children will change and make way for the respect andadmiration of all women, who bear their burdens without complaint or a lotof pompous words!Yours, Anne M. FrankFRIDAY, JUNE 16, 1944Dearest Kitty,New problems: Mrs. van D. is at her wit’s end. She’s talking about gettingshot, being thrown in prison, being hanged and suicide. She’s jealous thatPeter confides in me and not in her, offended that Dussel doesn’t re- spondsufficiently to her flirtations and afraid her husband’s going to squander allthe fur-coat money on to- bacco. She quarrels, curses, cries, feels sorry forherself, laughs and starts allover again.What on earth can you do with such a silly, sniveling specimen of humanity?Nobody takes her seriously, she has no strength of character, she complainsto one and all, and you should see how she walks around: von hintenLyzeum, yon vorne Museum.* Acts like a schoolgirl, looks like a frump.Even worse, Peter’s becoming insolent, Mr. van Daan irritable and Mothercynical. Yes, everyone’s in quite a state! There’s only one rule you need toremember: laugh at everything and forget everybody else! It soundsegotistical, but it’s actually the only cure for those suffering from self-pity.Mr. Kugler’s supposed to spend four weeks in Alkmaar on a work detail. He’strying to get out of it with a doctor’s certificate and a letter from Opekta. Mr.Kleiman’s hoping his stomach will be operated on soon. Starting at elevenlast night, all private phones were cut off.Yours, Anne M. Frank