I Do My Best To Please Everybody,

I Simply Can't Imagine The World Will Ever Be Normal Again For Us. I Do Talk About "after The War," But It's As If I'm Talking About A Castle In The Air, Something That Can Never Come True.

I Don't Dare Do Anything Anymore, 'cause I'm Afraid It's Not Allowed.

No One Ever Became Poor From Giving.

They Mustn't Know My Despair, I Can't Let Them See The Wounds Which They Have Caused, I Couldn't Bear Their Sympathy And Their Kind-hearted Jokes, It Would Only Make Me Want To Scream All The More. If I Talk, Everyone Thinks I'm Showing Off; When I'm Silent They Think I'm Ridiculous; Rude If I Answer, Sly If I Get A Good Idea, Lazy If I'm Tired, Selfish If I Eat A Mouthful More Than I Should, Stupid, Cowardly, Crafty, Etc. Etc.

But Feelings Can't Be Ignored, No Matter How Unjust Or Ungrateful They Seem.