I don't think about all the misery, but about the beauty that still remains.

Anne Frank wrote this line in her diary while in hiding with her family and four others in the Secret Annex in Amsterdam during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. By this point, the group had been confined for many months, living under constant fear of discovery, with severe restrictions on movement, food, and contact with the outside world. Anne’s diary entries often oscillate between despair at persecution and confinement and a deliberate effort to preserve hope and moral clarity. The remark reflects her attempt, amid wartime terror and personal frustration, to focus on what she still perceived as good and beautiful in life.

The sentence captures a disciplined act of attention: Anne refuses to let suffering monopolize her inner life, choosing instead to notice “the beauty that still remains.” It is not a denial of misery but a conscious reorientation toward what endures—nature, human kindness, imagination, and the possibility of meaning even under oppression. In the diary’s broader emotional landscape, the line exemplifies Anne’s resilience and her belief that one can retain an ethical and aesthetic sensibility despite dehumanizing circumstances. Its lasting significance lies in how it frames hope as a practice rather than a naïve optimism.

1) “I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
2) “I don’t think about all the misery, but about the beauty that remains.”