(That which does not kill me, makes me stronger.) Then I spoke about the future.
I said that to the impartial the future must seem hopeless.
I agreed that each of us could guess for himself how small were his chances of survival.
I told them that although there was still no typhus epidemic in the camp, I estimated my own chances at about one in twenty.
But I also told them that, in spite of this, I had no intention of losing hope and giving up.
For no man knew what the future would bring, much less the next hour.
Even if we could not expect any sensational military events in the next few days,
who knew better than we, with our experience of camps, how great chances sometimes opened up, quite suddenly, at least for the individual.
For instance, one might be attached unexpectedly to a special group with exceptionally good working conditions—
for this was the kind of thing which constituted the “luck” of the prisoner.
But I did not only talk of the future and the veil which was drawn over it.
I also mentioned the past; all its joys, and how its light shone even in the present darkness.
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