The directions of conscience are infallible when they demand from us not that we affirm our animal personality, but sacrifice it.
A Christian who does not know where the Spirit that animates him comes from and where it goes (John 3:8), the Spirit that God gives without measure (John 3:34), cannot set an external purpose for his life.
The notion of purpose is borrowed from everyday tasks and undertakings. The purpose of the universe, however, is inaccessible to the human being, and therefore in his life he has to be guided not by an external purpose, but by the instructions of God’s will, which he learns within himself.
Just as a sailor can only use the coastline to set the direction of his vessel when he can see it—for example, when crossing a river—but must rely on a compass when crossing the ocean, so too a Christian can only use external goals to pick the right path for his life in worldly affairs; but in his search for the general meaning of life he must turn to the guidance of his inner voice of conscience, which always gives a clear warning whenever a human being deviates or even intends to deviate from the path of truth.
— Fyodor Strakhov
The satisfaction we experience after every selfless deed rests on the fact that this deed, flowing from a direct recognition of our own being in the other, in turn confirms that we were right to have recognized that our true self exists not just in our personality, not just in this separate phenomenon, but in all living things. And just as selfishness constrains the heart, this consciousness gives it space. Selfishness focuses all our interests on our separate personality, with the result being that our cognition constantly paints us a picture of countless dangers that threaten this personality at all times, making our general mood that of anxiety and unease. On the other hand, simply being aware of the fact that all living things are our own being to the same degree as our own personality, spreads our interest over all living things and gives our heart space. As a consequence of such a decrease in self-centeredness, our anxiety is curbed by being cut at its root; thence a calm, confident joy, which gives one a virtuous disposition and a clear conscience, thence a more vital sensation of joy at every good deed, clarifying to us the basis of this sentiment. An egotist feels alone amid foreign and hostile phenomena, and all he cares about is his own welfare. But a kind person lives in a world of friendly beings; the good of every one of them is also his own.
— Schopenhauer
So many partitions lie between us and objects! Our mood, our health, all the tissues of our eyes, the windows of our room, fog, smoke, rain or dust and even light—and all this is forever changing. Heraclitus said: “You cannot step into the same river twice”; but I would say: you cannot view the same landscape twice, because both the observer and that which is being observed are always and forever changing.
Wisdom consists in obeying the universal illusion without being deceived by it.
I think that reason inevitably leads us to the realization that everything material is only a dream within a dream. Only the sense of duty and moral obligation can take us out of the sphere of magical dreams. Only conscience tears us away from the charm of Maya; it dispels the vapors of kif, the hallucinations of opium and the tranquility of contemplative indifference. Our conscience is what makes us conscious of human responsibility.
It is an alarm clock, the cry of a rooster that banishes phantoms; it is an archangel armed with a sword who drives a human being out of his artificial paradise.
— After Amiel
A human being who lives for the body can become lost in the tangled labyrinths of contemplative or sensory life, but the soul always infallibly knows the truth.
— Lucy Mallory
The passions indeed may be stronger than the conscience, may lift up a louder voice; but their clamor differs wholly from the tone of command in which the conscience speaks. They are not clothed with its authority, its binding power. In their very triumphs they are rebuked by the moral principle, and often cower before its still, deep, menacing voice.
— Channing
The voice of conscience can always be distinguished from all other spiritual impulses by its always demanding something useless and intangible, but beautiful and attainable only by our effort.
This distinguishes our voice of conscience from the voice of ego, which is often mixed with it.
