The moment of will, either colorless and heavy like a blow of a piston
or sharp like a whip,
the moment, which usually does not force itself
upon anybody,
but me –
it does not grow from feelings like a sweet fruit,
it does not emerge from thoughts,
it twists the path –
when it comes, I have to lift it,
and that’s what I usually do.

There is no room for heart and thought,
there is only this moment, which explodes
in me like a cross.

- Karol Wojtyla