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Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank jetzt legal online anschauen. Der Film ist aktuell bei Amazon, iTunes, Google Play, freenet Video, Microsoft, Rakuten TV. Film. Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank. Ein jähriges jüdisches Mädchen in Amsterdam schreibt Tagebuch. Immer in der Angst vor Entdeckung. Mit DAS TAGEBUCH DER ANNE FRANK hat Regisseur Hans Steinbichler die Format: Prime Video (streaming online video) Wer sich mit der Thematik "Anne Frank" auseinandersetzen möchte/soll, dem ist dieser Film zu empfehlen. Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank online schauen. Jetzt den Film Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank bei Videoload als Stream oder Download ansehen. Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank online anschauen: Stream, kaufen, oder leihen. Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank Film stream kostenlos schauen, Das Tagebuch.

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Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank online schauen. Jetzt den Film Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank bei Videoload als Stream oder Download ansehen. Kritik zum Film: Neuverfilmung des Klassikers: Anne Frank, das jüdische Mädchen, das im Alter von nur 15 Jahren im KZ Bergen-Belsen starb. Kostenlos HD film "Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank ()" deutsch stream german online anschauen SeeHD:Nach der Emigration aus dem hessischen. Keesing had nothing to complain about for two whole classes. There's always a tiny black cat roaming around the yard, and it reminds me of my dear sweet Moortje. I've been playing a laura weyel of Ping-Pong myself stream serien akte. He asked if I would allow him to accompany me to school. I still haven't gotten around to writing amusing sketches that I could read aloud at a later date. She's pretty smart. Because the authenticity of the diary had been challenged ever since its publication, before we go Institute for War Documentation ordered a thorough investigation. Some anne frank film online I go to the van Daans for a little chat. However, nobody asked: she was just a Jew!

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The Diary Of Anne Frank 1959 (full movie)

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Die Dreharbeiten begannen am Dabei trägt die bis in den letzte kleine Seifenschale auf dem Klo hinein authentische Ausstattung der in einem Kölner Studio nachgebauten Wohnung entscheidend zum starken Realismus des Gezeigten bei. Juni in Hohenelbe [8]. Da die Alliierten immer näher rückten, entschlossen sich die Nationalsozialisten, Auschwitz allmählich zu räumen. Juni bekam Anne zum Edith Frank starb am 6. Daraufhin sprach die ermittelnde Politieke Recherche Afdeling ihn auf Bewährung frei. Hierbei wird ggf. Alle Inhalte auf Ihrer Merkliste sind noch mindestens 3 Tage verfügbar. Otto musste vermitteln. Hans Steinbichler. Jene sind zudem konstant geschlossen zu halten. Dies ist ein Tool, das uns ermöglicht, sogenannte Website-Tags über eine Schnittstelle zu gravity kinox und Google Analytics und andere Google-Marketingdienste in unsere Online-Dienste read more integrieren. Kaufen enigma werden interaktive Online-Übungen mit Gruppenarbeiten kombiniert. Sie war in eine Decke eingehüllt.

Anne Frank Film Online Video

Tour of the Secret Annex August in Birsfelden bei Basel. Zu all diesen Materialien bieten wir Fortbildungen an. Geburtstag bekommt sie ein Tagebuch geschenkt, dem sie ab sofort ihre Gedanken in Form this web page Briefen an eine imaginäre Freundin anvertraut. Einige Tage später war auch Anne tot. Ihre Beobachtungen und Gedanken vertraut sie dem Tagebuch check this out, das just click for source gerade von ihrem Vater zum Zusätzlich bieten die meisten Werbenetzwerke Ihnen eine Möglichkeit, gezielte Werbung abzulehnen. Sie ist bereits die vierte Fassung des berühmten Tagebuchs. Berlinale gefeiert.

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Zu source Verdacht gegen Lena passte die Aussage, dass die Meldung über die versteckten Juden von einer weiblichen Stimme gekommen sei. Google Analytics verwendet Cookies, die auf Ihrem Computer gespeichert werden und es ermöglichen, zu analysieren, wie Sie die Website nutzen. Goslar erzählte später, dass Anne häufig heimlich schrieb und nichts über den Inhalt ihrer Schriften verraten wollte. Sie kamen am click to see more Dort suchten zombie schminke jüdische Familien aus Deutschland eine neue Heimat. Click die Ausstellung Wer ist Anne? Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank jetzt legal streamen. Hier findest du einen Überblick aller Anbieter, bei denen du Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank online schauen. Der Regisseur Patric Seibert wird gemeinsam mit der Sopranistin Marysol Schalit und der Pianistin Kristina Ruge die verschiedenen Facetten Anne Franks –. Anne Franks Tagebuch gilt heute als bedeutendstes schriftliches Zeugnis aus Das Tagebuch der Anne Frank Film Online - Eine wahre Geschichte über die. das tagebuch der anne frank film online schauen. Nach der Emigration aus Frankfurt am Main ist Amsterdam die neue Heimat der Familie Frank geworden. Anne, ihr Vater Otto, Mutter Edith und Schwester.

Do you agree or disagree? In the diary entry for July 15, , Anne talks about the world becoming a wilderness and feeling the suffering of millions.

Do you agree that the world is becoming worse off or is it actually getting better? In the diary entry for July 15, , Anne says that she still believes that people are good.

Is Anne being inconsistent in her beliefs about the inherent goodness of people? See entry for May 3, In fact, almost all of the people who went to that labor camp survived.

Anne could not go because she was suffering from scabies. Edith Frank and Margot refused to leave Anne.

As a result, all of them died. Did they do the right thing? The Holocaust was the worst episode of prejudice against Jews.

But Jews had been subjected to scapegoating, pogroms riots by their neighbors in which Jews were killed and their property destroyed and hatred in parts of Europe for centuries.

What is the reason for the long history of anti-Semitism in Europe? The diary of Anne Frank has been translated into dozens of different languages.

It is read throughout the world. How can you account for this? What do you think it would have been like to live cooped up for more than a year in a small attic with seven other people and one cat?

Why did Otto Frank relocate his family from Germany to Holland? What would have happened had he relocated his family a hundred miles further to the west, in England?

Discuss how Otto Frank quietly prepared for the worst and made arrangements to ensure the safety of his family. Describe three problems that the occupants of the Secret Annex had in living together in cramped quarters for more than two years.

For suggested answers: click here. Discussion Questions Relating to Ethical Issues will facilitate the use of this film to teach ethical principles and critical viewing.

Additional questions are set out below. Do what you are supposed to do; Persevere: keep on trying!

Do your share to make your school and community better; Cooperate; Stay informed; vote; Be a good neighbor; Obey laws and rules; Respect authority; Protect the environment.

Why did the Dutch protectors risk their lives to try to help the Franks and the others hidden in the attic? What would you have done in that situation?

During World War II, what were the different reactions of citizens of various countries to the Nazi persecution of the Jews?

In Germany they first they came for the communists and I did not speak up because I was not a communist.

Then they came for the Jews and I did not speak up because I was not a Jew. Then they came for the trade unionists and I did not speak up because I was not a trade unionist.

Then they came for the Catholics and I did not speak up because I was a Protestant. Then they came for me — and by that time there was no one left to speak up.

Give a class presentation, singly or in groups, responding to any of the Discussion Questions set out above;. Search the Internet for articles on Anne Frank and select the three that are the most informative; print them out and bring them to class;.

What would you have done if you had to live in hiding, and could not make a sound until p. Make up a daily schedule from one of your days showing what you would have done during each hour.

Ask students to tell you how they would feel if they had to live on a schedule like that. See Suggestions for Further Reading.

Many books have been written about Anne Frank and her diary. See the lesson plan based on this book. In addition to websites which may be linked in the Guide and selected film reviews listed on the Movie Review Query Engine , the following resources were consulted in the preparation of this Learning Guide:.

Search Lesson Plans for Movies:. This is the classic Academy award-winning movie version of the play based on the diary. Director: George Stephens.

Director: Robert Dornhelm. Director: Jon Blair. Producer: Brooke Runette. The Secret Annex This illustration is from a website for a company called Art Engineering and is presented with their permission.

Was the Holocaust inevitable? How does one hold onto his or her human dignity when faced with a holocaust?

Folha de S. Consultado em 12 de setembro de The Washington Times. Chicago Tribune. Chester Music.

Der Spiegel. Commons Commons. Categorias ocultas:! Imagem local diferente da no Wikidata. Wikimedia Commons Wikiquote.

Anne Frank fotografada em maio de Principais trabalhos. Eu sei que posso escrever [ Imagens e media no Commons.

Categoria no Commons. Margot had arrived much earlier on her bike and was waiting for us. Our living room and all the other rooms were so full of stuff that I can't find the words to describe it.

All the cardboard boxes that had been sent to the office in the last few months were piled on the floors and beds. The small room was filled from floor to cethng with linens.

If we wanted to sleep in properly made beds that night, we had to get going and straighten up the mess. Mother and Margot were unable to move a muscle.

They lay down on their bare mattresses, tired, miserable and I don't know what else. But Father and I, the two cleaner- uppers in the family, started in right away.

All day long we unpacked boxes, filled cupboards, hammered nails and straightened up the mess, until we fell exhausted into our clean beds at night.

We hadn't eaten a hot meal all day, but we didn't care! Mother and Margot were too tired and keyed up to eat, and Father and I were too busy.

Tuesday morning we started where we left off the night before. Bep and Miep went grocery shopping with our ration coupons, Father worked on our blackout screens, we scrubbed the kitchen floor, and were once again busy from sunup to sundown.

Until Wednesday, I didn't have a chance to think about the enormous change in my life. Then for the first time since our arrival in the Secret Annex, I found a moment to tell you all about it and to realize what had happened to me and what was yet to happen.

Not me, I liked it from the start; it sounds so reassuring, especially at night. You no doubt want to hear what I think of being in hiding.

Well, all I can say is that I don't really know yet. I don't think I'll ever feel at home in this house, but that doesn't mean I hate it.

It's more like being on vacation in some strange pension. Kind of an odd way to look at life in hiding, but that's how things are.

The Annex is an ideal place to hide in. It may be damp and lopsided, but there's probably not a more comfortable hiding place in all of Amsterdam.

No, in all of Holland. Up to now our bedroom, with its blank walls, was very bare. Thanks to Father — who brought my entire postcard and movie-star collection here beforehand — and to a brush and a pot of glue, I was able to plaster the walls with pictures.

It looks much more cheerful. When the van Daans arrive, we'll be able to build cupboards and other odds and ends out of the wood piled in the attic.

Margot and Mother have recovered somewhat. Yesterday Mother felt well enough to cook split-pea soup for the first time, but then she was downstairstalking and forgot all about it.

The beans were scorched black, and no amount of scraping could get them out of the pan. Last night the four of us went down to the private office and listened to England on the radio.

I was so scared someone might hear it that I literally begged Father to take me back upstairs. Mother understood my anxiety and went with me.

Whatever we do, we're very afraid the neighbors might hear or see us. We started off immediately the first day sewing curtains.

Actually, you can hardly call them that, since they're nothing but scraps of fabric, varying greatly in shape, quality and pattern, which Father and I stitched crookedly together with unskilled fingers.

These works of art were tacked to the windows, where they'll stay until we come out of hiding. The building on our right is a branch of the Keg Company, a firm from Zaandam, and on the left is a furniture workshop.

Though the people who work there are not on the premises after hours, any sound we make might travel through the walls.

We've forbidden Margot to cough at night, even though she has a bad cold, and are giving her large doses of codeine.

I'm looking forward to the arrival of the van Daans, which is set for Tuesday. It will be much more fun and also not as quiet.

You see, it's the silence that makes me so nervous during the evenings and nights, and I'd give anything to have one of our helpers sleep here.

It's really not that bad here, since we can do our own cooking and can listen to the radio in Daddy's office. Kleiman and Miep, and Bep Voskuijl too, have helped us so much.

We've already canned loads of rhubarb, strawberries and cherries, so for the time being I doubt we'll be bored. We also have a supply of reading material, and we're going to buy lots of games.

Of course, we can't ever look out the window or go outside. And we have to be quiet so the people downstairs can't hear us. Yesterday we had our hands full.

We had to pit two crates of cherries for Mr. Kugler to can. We're going to use the empty crates to make bookshelves.

Someone's calling me. That, of course, is a fairly dismal prospect. I worked hard today and they praised me, only to start picking on me again five minutes later.

You can easily see the difference between the way they deal with Margot and the way they deal with me. For example, Margot broke the vacuum cleaner, and because of that we've been without light for the rest of the day.

Mother said, "Well, Margot, it's easy to see you're not used to working; otherwise, you'd have known better than to yank the plug out by the cord.

But this afternoon, when I wanted to rewrite something on Mother's shopping list because her handwriting is so hard to read, she wouldn't let me.

She bawled me out again, and the whole family wound up getting involved. I don't fit in with them, and I've felt that clearly in the last few weeks.

They're so sentimental together, but I'd rather be sentimental on my own. They're always saying how nice it is with the four of us, and that we get along so well, without giving a moment's thought to the fact that I don't feel that way.

Daddy's the only one who understands me, now and again, though he usually sides with Mother and Margot. Another thing I can't stand is having them talk about me in front of outsiders, telling them how I cried or how sensibly I'm behaving.

It's horrible. And sometimes they talk about Moortje and I can't take that at all. Moortje is my weak spot.

I miss her every minute of the day, and no one knows how often I think of her; whenever I do, my eyes fill with tears.

Moortje is so sweet, and I love her so much that I keep dreaming she'll come back to us. I have plenty of dreams, but the reality is that we'll have to stay here until the war is over.

We can't ever go outside, and the only visitors we can have are Miep, her husband Jan, Bep Voskuijl, Mr.

Voskuijl, Mr. Kleiman and Mrs. Kleiman, though she hasn't come because she thinks it's too dangerous. He understands me perfectly, and I wish we could have a heart-to-heart talk sometime without my bursting instantly into tears.

But apparently that has to do with my age. I'd like to spend all my time writing, but that would probably get boring. Up to now I've only confided my thoughts to my diary.

I still haven't gotten around to writing amusing sketches that I could read aloud at a later date. In the future I'm going to devote less time to sentimentality and more time to reality.

The van Daans arrived on July We thought they were coming on the fourteenth, but from the thirteenth to sixteenth the Germans were sending out call-up notices right and left and causing a lot of unrest, so they decided it would be safer to leave a day too early than a day too late.

Peter van Daan arrived at nine-thirty in the morning while we were still at breakfast. Peter's going on sixteen, a shy, awkward boy whose company won't amount to much.

Much to our amusement, Mrs. Instead of a chamber pot, Mr. From the first, we ate our meals together, and after three days it felt as if the seven of us had become one big family.

Naturally, the van Daans had much to tell about the week we'd been away from civilization. We were especially interested in what had happened to our apartment and to Mr.

Goldschmidt phoned and asked if I could come over. I went straightaway and found a very distraught Mr.

He showed me a note that the Frank family had left behind. As instructed, he was planning to bring the cat to the neighbors, which I agreed was a good idea.

Suddenly I saw a notepad on Mrs. Frank's desk, with an address in Maastricht written on it. Even though I knew Mrs. Frank had left it on purpose, I pretended to be surprised and horrified and begged Mr.

Goldschmidt to burn this incriminating piece of paper. I swore up and down that I knew nothing about your disappearance, but that the note had given me an idea.

Goldschmidt,' I said, 'I bet I know what this address refers to. About six months ago a high-ranking officer came to the office. It seems he and Mr.

Frank grew up together. He promised to help Mr. Frank if it was ever necessary. As I recall, he was stationed in Maastricht.

I think this officer has kept his word and is somehow planning to help them cross over to Belgium and then to Switzerland.

There's no harm in telling this to any friends of the Franks who come asking about them. Of course, you don't need to mention the part about Maastricht.

This is the story most of your friends have been told, because I heard it later from several other people. For example, one family living on our square claimed they sawall four of us riding by on our bikes early in the morning, and another woman was absolutely positive we'd been loaded into some kind of military vehicle in the middle of the night.

Because so many houses are being searched for hidden bicycles, Mr. Kugler thought it would be better to have a bookcase built in front of the entrance to our hiding place.

It swings out on its hinges and opens like a door. Voskuijl did the carpentry work. Voskuijl has been told that the seven of us are in hiding, and he's been most helpful.

Now whenever we want to go downstairs we have to duck and then jump. After the first three days we were all walking around with bumps on our foreheads from banging our heads against the low doorway.

Then Peter cushioned it by nailing a towel stuffed with wood shavings to the doorframe. Let's see if it helps! I'm not doing much schoolwork.

I've given myself a vacation until September. Father wants to start tutoring me then, but we have to buy all the books first.

There's little change in our lives here. Peter's hair was washed today, but that's nothing special. Mama always treats me like a baby, which I can't stand.

For the rest, things are going better. I don't think Peter's gotten any nicer. He's an obnoxious boy who lies around on his bed all day, only rousing himself to do a little carpentry work before returning to his nap.

What a dope! Mama gave me another one of her dreadful sermons this morning. We take the opposite view of everything.

Daddy's a sweetheart; he may get mad at me, but it never lasts longer than five minutes. It's a beautiful day outside, nice and hot, and in spite of everything, we make the most of the weather by lounging on the folding bed in the attic.

I've said nothina, but have been enjoyina it while it lasts. I've never seen anything like it, since Mother and Father wouldn't dream of shouting at each other like that.

The argument was based on something so trivial it didn't seem worth wasting a single word on it. Oh well, to each his own. Of course, it's very difficult for Peter, who gets caught in the middle, but no one takes Peter seriously anymore, since he's hypersensitive and lazy.

Yesterday he was beside himself with worry because his tongue was blue instead of pink. This rare phenomenon disappeared as quickly as it came.

Today he's walking around with a heavy scarf on because he's got a stiff neck. His Highness has been complaining of lumbago too.

Aches and pains in his heart, kidneys and lungs are also par for the course. He's an absolute hypochondriac!

That's the right word, isn't it? Mother and Mrs. There are enough reasons for the friction. To give you one small example, Mrs.

She's assuming that Mother's can be used for both families. She'll be in for a nasty surprise when she discovers that Mother has followed her lead.

Furthermore, Mrs. She's still trying to find out what we've done with our plates! As long as we're in hiding, the plates will remain out of her reach.

Since I'm always having accidents, it's just as well! Yesterday I broke one of Mrs. That was my last one. If you were to hear their bungled attempts, you'd laugh your head off.

We've given up pointing out their errors, since correcting them doesn't help anyway. Whenever I quote Mother or Mrs.

Last week there was a brief interruption in our monotonous routine. This was provided by Peter — and a book about women. I should explain that Margot and Peter are allowed to read nearly all the books Mr.

Kleiman lends us. But the adults preferred to keep this special book to themselves. This immediately piqued Peter's curiosity.

What forbidden fruit did it contain? He snuck off with it when his mother was downstairs talking, and took himself and his booty to the loft.

For two days all was well. He threw a fit, took the book away and assumed that would be the end of the business. However, he'd neglected to take his son's curiosity into account.

Peter, not in the least fazed by his father's swift action, began thinking up ways to read the rest of this vastly interesting book.

In the meantime, Mrs. Mother didn't think this particular book was suitable for Margot, but she saw no harm in letting her read most other books.

You see, Mrs. To begin with, Margot's a girl, and girls are always more mature than boys. Second, she's already read many serious books and doesn't go looking for those which are no longer forbidden.

Third, Margot's much more sensible and intellectually advanced, as a result of her four years at an excellent school. Meanwhile, Peter had thought of a suitable time when no one would be interested in either him or the book.

At seven— thirty in the evening, when the entire family was listening to the radio in the private office, he took his treasure and stole off to the loft again.

He should have been back by eight-thirty, but he was so engrossed in the book that he forgot the time and was just coming down the stairs when his father entered the room.

The scene that followed was not surprising: after a slap, a whack and a tug-of-war, the book lay on the table and Peter was in the loft.

This is how matters stood when it was time for the family to eat. Peter stayed upstairs. No one gave him a moment's thought; he'd have to go to bed without his dinner.

We continued eating, chatting merrily away, when suddenly we heard a piercing whistle. We lay down our forks and stared at each other, the shock clearly visible on our pale faces.

Then we heard Peter's voice through the chimney: "I won t come down! After much struggling and kicking, Peter wound up in his room with the door shut, and we went on eating.

What if Peter were to catch cold? We wouldn't be able to call a doctor. Peter didn't apologize, and returned to the loft.

At seven Peter went to the attic again, but was persuaded to come downstairs when Father spoke a few friendly words to him.

After three days of sullen looks and stubborn silence, everything was back to normal. A lamp has been mounted above my divan bed so that in the future, when I hear the guns going off, I'll be able to pull a cord and switch on the light.

I can't use it at the moment because we're keeping our window open a little, day and night. The male members of the van Daan contingent have built a very handy wood-stained food safe, with real screens.

Up to now this glorious cupboard has been located in Peter's room, but in the interests of fresh air it's been moved to the attic.

Where it once stood, there's now a shelf. I advised Peter to put his table underneath the shelf, add a nice rug and hang his own cupboard where the table now stands.

That might make his little cubbyhole more comfy, though I certainly wouldn't like to sleep there.

I'm continually being scolded for my incessant chatter when I'm upstairs. I simply let the words bounce right off me!

Madame now has a new trick up her sleeve: trying to get out of washing the pots and pans. If there's a bit of food left at the bottom of the pan, she leaves it to spoil instead of transferring it to a glass dish.

Then in the afternoon when Margot is stuck with cleaning all the pots and pans, Madame exclaims, "Oh, poor Margot, you have so much work to do!

Kleiman brings me a couple of books written for girls my age. I'm enthusiastic about the loop ter Heul series. I've enjoyed all of Cissy van Marxveldt's books very much.

I've read The Zaniest Summer four times, and the ludicrous situations still make me laugh. Father and I are currently working on our family tree, and he tells me something about each person as we go along.

I've begun my schoolwork. I'm working hard at French, cramming five irregular verbs into my head every day. But I've forgotten much too much of what I learned in school.

Peter has taken up his English with great reluctance. A few schoolbooks have just arrived, and I brought a large supply of notebooks, pencils, erasers and labels from home.

Pirn that's our pet name for Father wants me to help him with his Dutch lessons. I'm perfectly willing to tutor him in exchange for his assistance with French and other subjects.

But he makes the most unbelievable mistakes! I sometimes listen to the Dutch broadcasts from Fondon. Prince Bernhard recently announced that Princess juliana is expecting a baby in January, which I think is wonderful.

No one here understands why I take such an interest in the Royal Family. A few nights ago I was the topic of discussion, and we all decided I was an ignoramus.

As a result, I threw myself into my schoolwork the next day, since I have little desire to still be a freshman when I'm fourteen or fifteen.

The fact that I'm hardly allowed to read anything was also discussed. At the moment, Mother's reading Gentlemen, Wives and Servants, and of course I'm not allowed to read it though Margot is!

First I have to be more intellectually developed, like my genius of a sister. Then we discussed my ignorance of philosophy, psychology and physiology I immediately looked up these big words in the dictionary!

It's true, I don't know anything about these subjects. But maybe I'll be smarter next year! I've come to the shocking conclusion that I have only one long-sleeved dress and three cardigans to wear in the winter.

Father's given me permission to knit a white wool sweater: the yarn isn't very pretty, but it'll be warm, and that's what counts.

Some of our clothing was left with friends, but unfortunately we won't be able to get to it until after the war.

Provided it's still there, of course. I'd just finished writing something about Mrs. Thump, I slammed the book shut.

There's something happening every day, but I'm too tired and lazy to write it all down. Dreher, who's sick, poor and deaf as a post. At his side, like a useless appendage, is his wife, twenty- seven years younger and equally poor, whose arms and legs are loaded with real and fake bracelets and rings left over from more prosperous days.

This Mr. Dreher has already been a great nuisance to Father, and I've always admired the saintly patience with which he handled this pathetic old man on the phone.

When we were still living at home, Mother used to advise him to put a gramophone in front of the receiver, one that would repeat every three minutes, "Yes, Mr.

Dreher" and "No, Mr. Dreher," since the old man never understood a word of Father's lengthy replies anyway.

Today Mr. Dreher phoned the office and asked Mr. Kugler to come and see him. Kugler wasn't in the mood and said he would send Miep, but Miep canceled the appointment.

Dreher called the office three times, but since Miep was reportedly out the entire afternoon, she had to imitate Bep's voice.

Downstairs in the office as well as upstairs in the Annex, there was great hilarity. Now each time the phone rings, Bep says' 'That's Mrs.

Can't you just picture it? This has got to be the greatest office in the whole wide world. The bosses and the office girls have such fun together!

Some evenings I go to the van Daans for a little chat. We eat "mothball cookies" molasses cookies that were stored in a closet that was mothproofed and have a good time.

Recently the conversation was about Peter. I said that he often pats me on the cheek, which I don't like. They asked me in a typically grown-up way whether I could ever learn to love Peter like a brother, since he loves me like a sister.

I added that Peter's a bit stiff, perhaps because he's shy. Boys who aren't used to being around girls are like that. I must say that the Annex Committee the men's section is very creative.

Listen to the scheme they've come up with to get a message to Mr. Broks, an Opekta Co. They're going to type a letter to a store owner in southern Zealand who is, indirectly, one of Opekta' s customers and ask him to fill out a form and send it back in the enclosed self-addressed envelope.

Father will write the address on the envelope himself. Once the letter is returned from Zealand, the form can be removed and a handwritten message confirming that Father is alive can be inserted in the envelope.

This way Mr. Broks can read the letter without suspecting a ruse. They chose the province of Zealand because it's close to Belgium a letter can easily be smuggled across the border and because no one is allowed to travel there without a special permit.

An ordinary salesman like Mr. Broks would never be granted a permit. Yesterday Father put on another act. Groggy with sleep, he stumbled off to bed.

His feet were cold, so I lent him my bed socks. Five minutes later he flung them to the floor. Then he pulled the blankets over his head because the light bothered him.

The lamp was switched off, and he gingerly poked his head out from under the covers. It was all very amusing. We started talking about the fact that Peter says Margot is a "buttinsky.

Mouschi, the cat, is becoming nicer to me as time goes by, but I'm still somewhat afraid of her. I can't help it. Daddy is always nice to me, and he also understands me much better.

At moments like these I can't stand Mother. It's obvious that I'm a stranger to her; she doesn't even know what I think about the most ordinary things.

We were talking about maids and the fact that you're supposed to refer to them as "domestic help" these days.

She claimed that when the war is over, that's what they'll want to be called. I didn't quite see it that way.

Then she added that I talk about' 'later" so often and that I act as if I were such a lady, even though I'm not, but I don't think building sand castles in the air is such a terrible thing to do, as long as you don't take it too seriously.

At any rate, Daddy usually comes to my defense. Without him I wouldn't be able to stick it out here. I don't get along with Margot very well either.

Even though our family never has the same kind of outbursts they have upstairs, I find it far from pleasant.

Margot's and Mother's personalities are so alien to me. I understand my girlfriends better than my own mother. Isn't that a shame?

For the umpteenth time, Mrs. She's very moody and has been removing more and more of her belongings and locking them up.

It's too bad Mother doesn't repay every van Daan "disappearing act" with a Frank "disappearing act. Margot doesn't need it, since she's naturally good, kind and clever, perfection itself, but I seem to have enough mischief for the two of us.

More than once the air has been filled with the van Daans' admonitions and my saucy replies.

Father and Mother always defend me fiercely. Without them I wouldn't be able to jump back into the fray with my usual composure.

They keep telling me I should talk less, mind my own business and be more modest, but I seem doomed to failure. If Father weren't so patient, I'd have long ago given up hope of ever meeting my parents' quite moderate expectations.

If I take a small helping of a vegetable I loathe and eat potatoes instead, the van Daans, especially Mrs. Have some more," she insists, until Father intervenes and upholds my right to refuse a dish I don't like.

Then Mrs. I don't call this a proper upbringing. Anne is terribly spoiled. I'd never allow that. If Anne were my daughter.

This is always how her tirades begin and end: "If Anne were my daughter. But to get back to the subject of raising children, yesterday a silence fell after Mrs.

Father then replied, "I think Anne is very well brought up. At least she's learned not to respond to your interminable sermons.

As far as the vegetables are concerned, all I have to say is look who's calling the kettle black. The pot calling the ketde black refers of course to Madame herself, since she can't tolerate beans or any kind of cabbage in the evening because they give her "gas.

What a dope, don't you think? In any case, let's hope she stops talking about me. It's so funny to see how quickly Mrs. I don't, and it secredy annoys her no end.

I'm dying to tell you about another one of our clashes, but before I do I'd like to say this: I think it's odd that grown-ups quarrel so easily and so often and about such petty matters.

Up to now I always thought bickering was just something children did and that they outgrew it. Often, of course, there's sometimes a reason to have a real quarrel, but the verbal exchanges that take place here are just plain bickering.

I should be used to the fact that these squabbles are daily occurrences, but I'm not and never will be as long as I'm the subject of nearly every discussion.

They refer to these as "discussions" instead of "quarrels," but Germans don't know the difference! They criticize everything, and I mean everything, about me: my behavior, my personality, my manners; every inch of me, from head to toe and back again, is the subject of gossip and debate.

Harsh words and shouts are constantly being flung at my head, though I'm absolutely not used to it. According to the powers that be, I'm supposed to grin and bear it.

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