Conscience Funny Quotes

It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do.

You cannot really shame a man who sincerely does not care what others think of him.

Royce hated keeping secrets from Hadrian, and it weighed heavily on his conscience, which was amazing, because he had never known he had one. Royce defined right and wrong by the moment. Right was what was best for him—wrong was everything else.

I climbed into Misery and called Uncle Bob. “We hooking up?” “Why does everything out of your mouth make me sound incestuous?” “Um, I wasn’t aware that it did. Perhaps you have a guilty conscience.” “Charley.” “Is there something you need to get off your chest? Besides that skank I saw you with the other day?

And you, Lord Bridgerton," she replied in a tone that could have frozen champagne, "are almost as handsome as your brother." Colin snorted again, only this time it sounded as if he were being strangled. "Are you all right?" Miss Sheffield asked. "He's fine," Anthony barked. She ignored him, keeping her attention on Colin. "Are you certain?" Colin nodded furiously. 'Tickle in my throat." "Or perhaps a guilty conscience?" Anthony suggested. Colin turned deliberately from his brother to Kate. "I think I might need another glass of lemonade," he gasped. "Or maybe," said Anthony, "something stronger. Hemlock, perhaps?

It is a funny thing. A man can make a promise to his God, break it five minutes later and never think about it. With an idle shrug of his shoulders, a man can break solemn promises to his mother, wife or sweetheart, and, except for a slight momentary twinge of conscience, he still won't be bothered very much. But if a man ever breaks a promise to himself he disintegrates. His entire personality and character crumble into tiny pieces, and he is never the same man again. I remember very well a sergeant I knew in the army. Before a group of five men he swore off smoking forever. An hour later he sheepishly lit a cigarette and broke his vow to the five of us and to himself. He was never quite the same man again, not to me, and not to himself.

It is a funny thing that for most men the whitest conscience is no protection from some apprehension in the presence of police.

Would you like me to write Mrs. Ames about inviting you to Yaddo? Get Miss Moore to write too. You can’t invite yourself, though, of course, almost all the invitations are planned. It would be marvelous to have you there. I know the solitude that gets too much. It doesn’t drug me, but I get fantastic and uncivilized. At last my divorce [from Jean Stafford] is over. It’s funny at my age to have one’s life so much in and on one’s hands. All the rawness of learning, what I used to think should be done with by twenty-five. Sometimes nothing is so solid to me as writing—I suppose that’s what vocation means—at times a torment, a bad conscience, but all in all, purpose and direction, so I’m thankful, and call it good, as Eliot would say.

It’s funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox, full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools—friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty—and said, Do the best you can with these, they will have to do. And mostly, against all odds, they’re enough.

« Tu crois qu’il faut le kidnapper ? - Franchement, Widget... - Non, sincèrement. On peut s’introduire chez lui en douce, le frapper avec quelque chose de lourd et le ramener ici aussi discrètement que possible. On le mettra debout et les gens croiront que c’est un ivrogne du coin. Le temps qu’il reprenne conscience, il sera déjà dans le train, et là, il n’aura plus vraiment le choix. Rapide et indolore. Enfin, pour nous. À part le fait d’avoir à le traîner. - Je ne pense pas que ce soit la meilleure idée, Widget. - Oh, allez, ce sera drôle, proteste Widget. »

I see many so-called conservative commentators, including some faith leaders, focusing on favorable policy initiatives or court appointments to justify their acceptance of this damage, while de-emphasizing the impact of this president on basic norms and ethics. That strikes me as both hypocritical and wrong. The hypocrisy is evident if you simply switch the names and imagine that a President Hillary Clinton had conducted herself in a similar fashion in office. I've said this earlier but it's worth repeating: close your eyes and imagine these same voices if President Hillary Clinton had told the FBI director, 'I hope you will let it go,' about the investigation of a senior aide, or told casual, easily disprovable lies nearly every day and then demanded we believe them. The hypocrisy is so thick as to be almost darkly funny. I say this as someone who has worked in law enforcement for most of my life, and served presidents of both parties. What is happening now is not normal. It is not fake news. It is not okay. Whatever your politics, it is wrong to dismiss the damage to the norms and traditions that have guided the presidency and our public life for decades or, in many cases, since the republic was founded. It is also wrong to stand idly by, or worse, to stay silent when you know better, while a president so brazenly seeks to undermine public confidence in law enforcement institutions that were established to keep our leaders in check...without these checks on our leaders, without those institutions vigorously standing against abuses of power, our country cannot sustain itself as a functioning democracy. I know there are men and women of good conscience in the United States Congress on both sides of the aisle who understand this. But not enough of them are speaking out. They must ask themselves to what, or to whom, they hold a higher loyalty: to partisan interests or to the pillars of democracy? Their silence is complicity - it is a choice - and somewhere deep down they must know that. Policies come and go. Supreme Court justices come and go. But the core of our nation is our commitment to a set of shared values that began with George Washington - to restraint and integrity and balance and transparency and truth. If that slides away from us, only a fool would be consoled by a tax cut or different immigration policy.

When you’re poor and hungry and frightened of failure, you often don’t have the luxury of high values, lofty goals, and social conscience. Funny how fear and poverty will acid-wash your value set, burn away all the flimflam and artifice and learned morality and leave you with nothing but the urgency of survival. - Dr. Dan Trix - Chasing the Horizon.

Life's not always a bed of noses. "We've been put on this earth to do good, and as long as you can put you hand on yer heart and say you've done yer best you can gan to yer rest with an easy conscience," was what me granny used to say. Before they dragged her off to the funny farm dressed as a Christmas turkey (it were the stuffing that gave the game away).

They say watch the breathing, watch the diet and for God’s sake make that kid go quiet. But they never say: “I am wrong and you are right”, because the self –pride they always want to hide! But in time, like the truth it shall come to surface and all those lies, that awful misery they always boast about will be extinct, whilst their conscience filled with guilt.

He dreaded the closing bell. When it came he marched up to the teacher and told her he thought she should keep him after school. She looked at him funny. “And why is that, Palmer?” “Because I was bad.” She looked surprised. Palmer was never bad. “I was not aware of that.” “You just didn’t catch me.” “Is that so? And now you wish to confess?” “Yes.” “You want to clear your conscience.” “Yes.” “I see.” She was smiling. She settled back in her chair. “So, what bad thing did you do?” “I spit on the floor.” Her eyebrows went up. “Really? Right here? In this room?” “Yes.” “When did you do this?” “Uh, after lunch.” She stood. “Would you mind showing me where you did it?” Palmer had not anticipated this. He had not thought a confession required proof.

Everyone says there’s a voice in your head that serves as your conscience. Well, I’ve had lots of time to think about this, and I have my own psychological theory: Everybody has a tiny person in their head. Stay with me. Don’t laugh. This “Tiny Person” talks to itself, which would explain the voices we hear, but it makes its own decisions. People are merely drones controlled by them.

I thought... I thought I heard you calling my name,' The crease between his brows deepened. 'Screaming for help.' Letting go of his sword, he ran a hand through his nearly white-blond hair. 'It must've been the wind.' 'Or your guilty conscience.' 'Probably the wind.' I started toward him. There it was, a flash of a grin. 'Sorry to interrupt.' 'Interrupt what? I'm stuck in this room. What could-?' I shrieked as the door closed and locked. 'Now I am yelling!' 'It's the wind,' he yelled back through the door.

The Light that lights every person who comes into the world is not a joking matter. That Light which God has set within the human breast, which can isolate a soul and hang it between heaven and hell, as lonely as if God had created but that one person—that is not a joking matter. Joke about politics if you must joke. Politics is usually funny any-way. But do not joke about God, and do not joke about conscience.