Wednesday, 3 November, 1943
Dear Kitty, In order to give us something to do, which is also educational. Daddy applied for a prospectus from a correspondence school. Margot nosed through the thick book at least three times without finding anything to her liking or to suit her purse. Daddy was quicker, and wants a letter written to the Institute asking for a trial lesson in ‘Elementary Latin.’ To give me something new to begin as well. Daddy asked Kleiman for a children’s Bible so that I could find out something about the New Testament at last. “Do you want to give Anne a Bible for Hanukkah?” asked Margot, somewhat perturbed. “Yes-er. I think St. Nicholas Day is a better occasion,” answered Daddy, ‘Jesus just doesn’t go with Hanukkah.’
Yours, Anne
Monday Evening, 8 November, 1943
Dear Kitty, If you were to read my pile of letters one after another, you would certainly be struck by the many different moods in which they are written. It annoys me that I am so dependent on the atmosphere here, but I’m certainly not the only one— we all find it the same. If I read a book that impresses me, I have to take myself firmly in hand, before I mix with other people, otherwise they would think my mind rather queer. At the moment, as you’ve probably noticed, I’m going through a spell of being depressed. I really couldn’t tell you why it is, but I believe it’s just because I’m a coward, and that’s what I keep bumping up against.
This evening, while Bep was still here, there was a long, loud, penetrating ring at the door. I turned white at once, got a tummy-ache and
