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 rength 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 ill have given myself, undiurbed by that knowledge, to the contemplation of her image, and that my mental conversation with her would have been ju as vivid and ju as satisfying. Set me like a seal upon thy heart, love is as rong as death.

Frankl, V.
Man’s Search for Meaning