Confession (n.) is not an opportunity for the Omniscient One to find out anything about the person confessing, but instead the person confessing finds out something about himself.
Confession (n.) brings an almost voluptuous pleasure when a grief meets a sympathetic eye, like the pleasure said to accompany blood-letting.
Confession (n.) leaves a person as alone as the dying, whether thousands wait for him outside or no one does.
Confession (n.) is not a tally of particular sins but grasping before God that sin hangs together, and that coherence must be found from the particular, not the general.
Confession (n.) is a seeming detour to the altar that eases rather than burdens; in the confessional no one accuses you unless you accuse yourself.
Confession (n.) is heavier than sin's secret itself, so human compassion invented relief: the quiet church, the hidden confessor, then confession in secret to God alone; the sinful woman chose the opposite, a banquet.