I have always loved Anne, reading and learning the terrors of the Holocaust. I enjoyed her penmanship, use of words, and vulnerability. I recently went to Israel and had the opportunity to visit the Holocaust Museum. I observed many pictures and articles that were very familiar from my previous readings. Two things bore into my heart and melted my soul. A silent dark room, only lit by thousands of small individual lights, to represent the thousands of children who lost their lives. A screen flashed pictures as the children's name was read in a monotone voice. Once you stepped on the path there was no way to exit and you were forced to walk through the complex brutality of this deplorable event. The other was a large image of hitler with piercing eyes filled with hatred and rage. I gazed into those black, hollow eyes and began to lament, how can the hate of one man lead to the death of so many. In the beautiful diary Anne writes,