" Several times a day Viktor passed his hand over his chest, over the jacket pocket where he kept it. Once, when the pain seemed unbearable, he thought, “If I hide it away somewhere, I might slowly start to calm down. As things are, this letter’s like an open grave.”
But he knew that he would sooner destroy himself than part with this letter that had, by some miracle, managed to find its way to him. "

― Vasily Grossman , Stalingrad