This is how he survived the Holocaust: My mind still clung to the image of my wife. A thought crossed my mind: I didn't even know if she were still alive, I only knew one thing -which I have learned well by now: love goes very far beyond the physical person of the beloved. It finds its deepest meaning in his spiritual being, his inner self. Whether or not he is actually present, whether or not he still alive at all, ceases to be of importance. I did not know whether my wife was alive, and I had no means of finding out (during all my personal life there was no outgoing or incoming mail); but at the 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...
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