" He could sink down and go under in this bog before he’d even be able to get away from here. The dry brush resisted his fingers, which by now were bloodless, slippery, and icy cold. He felt as if he were sinking ever more quickly and deeper; it seemed to him that he should already have been swallowed up. Although he had escaped to avoid certain death—there was no doubt that they would have killed all of them within the next few days—dying in the swamp seemed to him quite simple and not frightening. "

― Anna Seghers , Das siebte Kreuz