" On one of those first days back in Vienna, I looked up my friend Paul Polak and told him about the deaths of my parents, my brother, and Tilly. I remember that I burst into tears and said: “Paul, I must tell you, that when all this happens to someone, to be tested in such a way, that it must have some meaning. I have a feeling—and I don’t know how else to say it—that something waits for me. That something is expected of me, that I am destined for something.” After this I felt relieved, and no one could have understood me better than my dear old friend, Paul Polak. "

― Viktor E. Frankl , Recollections: An Autobiography