Live With The Objective Of Being Happy.

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

Sometimes I'm So Deeply Buried Under Self-reproaches That I Long For A Word Of Comfort To Help Me Dig Myself Out Again.

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.

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.

Leave Me In Peace, Let Me Sleep One Night At Least Without My Pillow Being Wet With Tears, My Eyes Burning And My Head Throbbing