Anne Frank Quotes

I think people might say I'm a bit of a sucker for punishment.

I think I beat myself up more than anyone else.

I hated hurting him. Most of the time, I could forget about it, but the inexorable truth is this: They might be glad to have me around, but I was the alpha and the omega of my parents' suffering.

I stood on Susan Boone's front porch, feeling lame. But then, since I've pretty much felt lame my entire life, this was no big surprise. On the other hand, usually I felt lame for no particular reason. This time I really had a reason to feel lame.

I made promises to you that I'm not sure I can keep. None of it has anything to do with you. It's just that I don't know what to do now. You must be thinking what a rotten person I am. Well, believe me, I'm thinking the same thing. I don't know how this happened or why. Maybe I can get over it. Do you think you can wait - because I don't want you to stop loving me. I keep remembering us and how it was. I don't want to hurt you ... not ever.

Such things as anguish, woe, affliction, guilt, feelings of awfulness, and utter wretchedness, the bread and butter of Days of Yore and Russians, sadly have very little staying power in these lickety-split Modern Times.

Help, I have done it again I have been here many times before Hurt myself again today And the worst part is There's no-one else to blame.

It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you.

Her absence had felt like torture--almost a form of personal punishment. He had nobody to discuss his feelings with, and for the first time he realised with appalling clarity what a destructive hold she had over him.

I'm still with that feeling that I am afraid of doing the wrong thing, because somebody is going to punish me.

And no, it wasn't shame I now felt, or guilt, but something rarer in my life and stronger than both: remorse. A feeling which is more complicated, curdled, and primeval. Whose chief characteristic is that nothing can be done about it: too much time has passed, too much damage has been done, for amends to be made.

Guilt starts as a feeling of failure.

George, who is out somewhere there in the dark, who is good to me - whom I revile, who can keep learning the games we play as quickly as I can change them. Who can make me happy and I do not wish to be happy. And yes, I do wish to be happy. George and Martha: Sad, sad, sad. Whom I will not forgive for having come to rest; for having seen me and having said: “Yes, this will do”. Who has made the hideous, the hurting, the insulting mistake of loving… me, and must be punished for it. George and Martha… Sad, sad, sad.

It was the emotion I hated the most of all emotions, shame.

I shed more tears than God could ever have required.

I knew how much it hurt to be the daughter of people who can't see you, not even if you are standing in front of them stomping your feet.

You?' is all I can manage to choke out. 'Always me,' she replies softly, bashfully. 'Who else?

Do you absolutely despise me, Walter?" "No." He hesitated and his voice was strange. "I despise myself.

We're all ordinary in a way. We can all be hurt. We can all be unbalanced. We all have feelings. Life can treat us harshly, even shockingly sometimes.

I don't deserve a soul, yet I still have one. I know because it hurts.

It was not enough to be the last guy she kissed. I wanted to be the last one she loved. And I knew I wasn’t. I knew it, and I hated her for it. I hated her for not caring about me. I hated her for leaving that night, and I hated myself , too, not only because I let her go but because if I had been enough for her, she wouldn’t have even wanted to leave. She would have just lain with me and talked and cried, and I would have listened and kissed at her tears as they pooled in her eyes.

She is sadder and sadder, and for a man there is no balm more soothing than the sadness he has caused a woman.

I was angry with myself because I still loved her, or at least I loved that dream of our togetherness. My feelings were unreasonable, irrational, and I couldn't change them. That hurt.

If I cried me a river of all my confessions, would I drown in my shallow regret?

Nobody ever cares what I say! I feel badly about it, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.