It would be one thing to perfectly describe the emotional colouring of will, but quite another to render it. Our every act emerges from a will to persist in being and this will is colured by a history of love that reaches back to dim origins. There is no will without prior love, but love is both an active movement towards and a passive receiving of being. These take their various hues from relations with the other. There may have been only one other from the very start. It is at the origin of love and of hate and only after that of will and hence of all our enacting in or of the world, whether self-regarding or other-regarding. Every other that becomes significant to us takes on the inhertance of the original other. Towards it we take up various poses, we fit ourselves into versions for its understanding, seeking to make ourselves understandable not for our own sake but for that of the other. The currency is in archetypes, and we seem to know these before meeting with anyone who fills them.