What drives me into care;
puts longing and a desire for love in my heart;
places me in the struggle between my will and my duty;
fills me with yearning to know and do;
and forces me into life?
At the same time, what makes a comedy of my care;
allows my longings to miscarry and casts me into solitude;
calls me to duty and torments me with guilt;
limits my knowing and doing;
and makes me finite?
What do I name that
which is beyond time and yet master of it,
beyond existence yet always at its heart?
~Rudolf Bultmann
