Conscience (n.) is the means by which it is ensured that it is not the moral subject per se, but ultimately only God become concrete in Christ.
Conscience (n.) that is burdened has a memory that reinvests the debt at a higher rate of interest.
Conscience (n.) is Christianity's whole victory: it made every human relationship a matter of conscience, so that everything remains as it was and yet has become infinitely new.
Conscience (n.) makes Christians a people of kings: the poorest charwoman may say before God, “I do this for a daily wage, but that I do it so carefully, I do for conscience' sake” — the king's own privilege.
Conscience (n.) cannot be restricted to one matter, any more than God can be omnipresent in a single place: to limit it is to deny it.
Conscience (n.) is the God-relationship: no one could have anything on his conscience if God did not exist — and that is why the least thing on it is so terrible, for one feels at once the infinite weight of God.
Conscience (n.) is God's look: as a good teacher of many children trains them by his eyes rather than by talk, God rules the world and trains innumerable men by His glance.
Conscience (n.) is the serious and faithful memory that will one day unroll before you a list — not of crimes, but of possibilities wasted.
Conscience (n.) is the secret a life keeps with itself: that it is an individual life and the universal at once.
Conscience (n.) expands a person the more developed it is, even if in other respects he closes himself off from the whole world; no one is 'inclosed' in God.
Conscience (n.) does not exist at all without stillness.
Conscience (n.) is best reached by telling a man a story, which puts him at ease since it is not about him, and slipping in one word that later turns into a question he must answer to himself.
Conscience (n.) is the question that nobody asks: someone who questions you can be deceived or told to mind his business, but where nobody asks and still there is a personal question, an invisible questioner is present.
Conscience (n.) is like a pilot the ship's council secretly debates throwing overboard because he brings contrary winds.
Conscience (n.) makes each guilty person write his own judicial report at once, but in sympathetic ink that shows only when eternity holds it to the light, so the Judgement is something a child could manage.