Night of 25th-26th January 1942
On marriage—Some beautiful women.
It’s lucky I’m not married. For me, marriage would have been a disaster.
It’s only after maternity that the woman discovers that other realities exist in life for her. The man, on the other hand, is a slave to his thoughts. The idea of his duties rules him. He necessarily has moments when he wants to throw the whole thing overboard, wife and children too. When I think of it, I realise that during the year 1932, if I’d been married, I’d scarcely have spent a few days in my own home.
The bad side of marriage is that it creates rights. In that case, it’s far better to have a mistress. The burden is lightened, and everything is placed on the level of a gift.
The Fuehrer noticed two guests who looked somewhat crestfallen, J.W. and Chr. Sehr. He turned towards Sehr, and explained: What I’ve said applies only to men of a higher type, of course!
Relieved, Sehr, exclaimed: “That’s just what I was thinking, my Fuehrer.”
At Brunswick, a young girl rushed towards my car to offer me a bouquet. She was blonde, dashing, wonderful. Everyone around me was amazed, but not one of these idiots had the idea of asking the girl for her address, so that I could send her a word of thanks. I’ve always reproached myself most bitterly.