Conscience (n.) is the first casualty of a heart that wants to forget what the eyes have seen.
Conscience (n.) gets tired and wants a lullaby, but the wounded never sleep, and neither does God.
Conscience (n.) is timid while the world burns; our sense of justice is shallow and easy to fool.
Conscience (n.) leaves no private corner to bury guilt; it digs up even our charitable forgetfulness.
Conscience (n.) is as bold as reason: as reason presumes nature intelligible, conscience presumes a moral bond between God and man.
Conscience (n.) recoils at the Bible's harsh passages, using standards the Bible itself taught it.
Conscience (n.) stops us more than it steers us: a brake rather than a map, a fence rather than a road.
Conscience (n.) is a merciless digger in the graveyards of our charitable forgetting.