I did not know whether my wife was alive, and I had no means of finding out (during all my prison life there was no outgoing or incoming mail); but at that moment it ceased to matter. There was no need for me to know; nothing could touch the ﬆrength of my love, my thoughts, and the image of my beloved. Had I known then that my wife was dead, I think that I would ﬆill have given myself, undiﬆurbed by that knowledge, to the contemplation of her image, and that my mental conversation with her would have been juﬆ as vivid and juﬆ as satisfying. Set me like a seal upon thy heart, love is as ﬆrong as death.
Man’s Search for Meaning