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A turn of the key is better than the conscience of a friar.

Spanish proverbs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Friar Lubin. (From The French)

To gallop off to town post-haste,
So oft, the times I cannot tell;
To do vile deed, nor feel disgraced,--
Friar Lubin will do it well.
But a sober life to lead,
To honor virtue, and pursue it,
That's a pious, Christian deed,--
Friar Lubin can not do it.

To mingle, with a knowing smile,
The goods of others with his own,
And leave you without cross or pile,
Friar Lubin stands alone.
To say 't is yours is all in vain,
If once he lays his finger to it;
For as to giving back again,
Friar Lubin cannot do it.

With flattering words and gentle tone,
To woo and win some guileless maid,
Cunning pander need you none,--
Friar Lubin knows the trade.
Loud preacheth he sobriety,
But as for water, doth eschew it;
Your dog may drink it,--but not he;
Friar Lubin cannot do it.

ENVOY
When an evil deed 's to do
Friar Lubin is stout and true;
Glimmers a ray of goodness through it,
Friar Lubin cannot do it.

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Barefooted Friar

I'll give thee, good fellow, a twelvemonth or twain,
To search Europe through, from Byzantium to Spain;
But ne'er shall you find, should you search till you tire,
So happy a man as the Barefooted Friar.

Your knight for his lady pricks forth in career,
And is brought home at even-song bunny'd through with a spear;
I confess him in haste - for his lady desires
No comfort on earth save the Barefooted Friar's.

Your monarch? - Pshaw! many a prince has been known
To barter his robes for our cowl and our gown,
But which of us e'er felt the idle desire
To exchange for a crown the grey hood of a Friar!

The Friar has walk'd out, and where'er he has gone,
The land and its fatness is mark'd for his own;
He can roam where he lists, he can stop when he tires,
For every man's house is the Barefooted Friar's.

He's expected at noon, and no wight till he comes
May profane the great chair, or the porridge of plums
For the best of the cheer, and the seat by the fire,
Is the undenied right of the Barefooted Friar.

He's expected at night, and the pasty's made hot,
They broach the brown ale, and they fill the black pot,
And the goodwife would wish the goodman in the mire,
Ere he lack'd a soft pillow, the Barefooted Friar.

Long flourish the sandal, the cord, and the cope,
The dread of the devil and trust of the Pope;
For to gather life's roses, unscathed by the briar,
Is granted alone to the Barefooted Friar.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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Disconnect

Behind closed doors all you live for is taking
That double life of yours has left your whole world shaking
Who are you fooling? I know you hear the laughter
Dont you hear people talking? what is it that your after?
Turn off your conscience
Leave the world outside
Nothing at all can ever make you feel
That anythings so real so you just - disconnect
The key to save yourself if for nothing else
A tongue can never hold the truth of silence is golden
With a broken heart underneath all of the pain
Do you stroke the pretty scars? the hurt never ends
Turn off your conscience
Leave the world outside
Nothing at all can ever make you feel
That anythings so real so you just - disconnect
Solo - mustaine
Turn off your conscience
Leave the world outside
Nothing at all can ever make you feel
That anythings so real so you just - disconnect
Turn off your conscience
Leave the world outside
Nothing at all can ever make you feel
That anythings so real so you just - disconnect
End chorus solos - pitrelli / percussion - chris vrenna

song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Headless Friar of Santo Tomas

In my alma mater, Santo Tomas
We had heard of a mysterious tale
Of a gentle, young Spanish friar who was
A sight that turned anyone very pale.

They said he was a handsome novice
And that time, his superior took fancy.
But the events after that were amiss,
When this friar was lost into mystery.

They say he had been beheaded
By civilians the Spanish called 'Indios'
Though no one believed what was said,
And presumed the circumstances - devious.

Through the years the old building there saw
The appearance of a friar without head,
Frightening students in this age and so
There were masses and prayers for this dead.

It seemed the solution was ineffective-
For soon the appearances became many,
The building had seemed quite conducive
And the ghosts there included the nunnery!

At graduation, we avoided that building
For fear the friar will greet us 'Congrats! '
And had sighed much relief at the leaving
Santo Tomas, and its ghostly 'frats'.

-
Copyright Cynthia Buhain-Baello
February 17,2010
Philippines

poem by Cynthia Buhain-Baello
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Nun in FRiar Small-Bro's Grave... Yard

The midnight clings to dwarfish kings
While robot drones, adorning thrones,
Kneel, bowing to the Old...Guard.
Arrhythmic clocks and wooden box
Grace FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

The diplohacks, in melting wax,
Are swept along, a thriving throng,
Just dying for a life...guard.
And Nun, alone, has beached their bones
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Beyond the streams, a raven screams
At loser fish that swarm and swish;
Nun gently drips her dreams...jarred.
There are no thanks along the banks
Of FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

While FRiar smiles and prowls the aisles
The hierarch obeys his bark;
His maw is oozing pure...lard.
He tells you who and what to do
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Well, FRiar's pets are in a sweat;
He calls the tunes near burning dunes
And taps his cloven feet...charred.
They roast in rooms within the tombs
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

His myrmidons, they drool and fawn
While chanting verse near FRiar's hearse -
Extolling, wild, the van...guard.
Remote controls promote the trolls
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

With faces straight, in bent debate,
They compromise their empty lies
With any passing re...tard.
Grey zombies groom white flies in bloom
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

With ghouls, unlearned, no stone's unturned,
They burnish blame with Nun's proud name
And leave the midnight sky... scarred.
They raise their hats to copy cats
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

The rumours spread amongst the dead -
Nun marks the place with saving grace,
And phantoms keep their face...marred.
The sinner digs with twisted twigs
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

In tempests strong, Nun rang the gong
But failed to rise in vacant eyes -
He gouged the one-eyed trump...card.
Nun sets her sail, to no avail
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Nun asked him why a bird can't fly.
His mouth, a slut, replied "tut, tut",
With conscience painted white...tarred.
A mushroom mold has taken hold
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

"To get ahead", his mouth, it said
"Lay bare your breast! I'll do the rest,
I'll bless you in the church...yard".
The golden rules are made for fools
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

When day's undone, and night's begun,
Nun stirs a cup and turns face up,
A feeling that she's ill...starred.
'Tis such a crime to waste her prime
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Nun planned to dine with sparkling wine
But sips instead a bitter red
Served with a crystal glass...shard,
Behind the bog, beneath the fog
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Well, minstrels fight beyond the night
And demons wait behind the gate,
While silence chokes the host...bard.
An angel sings with broken wings
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

A web waits, spun neath dying sun.
And caught ensnared, her flight impaired,
Nun's thoughts are how they'd die...hard.
The puppet people storm the stee-
pled FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

And voices wail beyond the pale,
"The old taboo - it echoes true -
Nun's bound to have her way...barred".
The schemes are strange and minds deranged
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

Ms.! Cast your nets, but hedge your bets -
There are no odds, where purple gods
And hungry idle ghosts...sparred.
The morning foams amongst the gnomes
In FRiar Small-Bro's grave...yard.

poem by Terry O'Leary
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Remember This Lack of Conscience - 'For Maya Angelou'.

When time goes past and dithers not
One sees the blame that gathers moss
To feel akin with woe as one
I'll forgive myself and you to soldier on

Remember this lack of conscience when we meet
I was violated, raped and beaten within to provide a treat

Remember this lack of conscience when I get out
To see through with vision all I espy

Remember this lack of conscience which will know no bounds
To hideously transform love profound

Remember this lack of conscience when I am free
You will lose and you know me

Remember this lack conscience less you forget
That freedom is precious and not a threat

Remember this lack of conscience when the bars are bent
I will slip out into the depths of crass to vent

Remember this lack of conscience to come
The Devil has a new spawn and drum

Remember this lack of conscience gathering
To prove nothing but give a battering

Remember this lack of conscience wild
It has no remorse just like a child

Remember this lack of conscience like the Hawk
Which draws blood, looks on and gawks

Remember this lack of conscience with the Demon within
It's a Golem to clear the the Evil and get even

Remember this lack of conscience when you renege
The death of love can be ones grave

Remember this lack of conscience and tremor not
No fruit you bear or shall ever to care

Remember this lack of conscience that prevails
The trial is over and you have failed

Remember this lack of conscience and grow
To a woman that a man can know

Remember this lack of conscience that forgave
and now with Love sends you away

For Maya Angelou - ' Remember This Lack of Conscience'.

poem by Azriel Dreams
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Monkshood

Most beautiful of poisons,
border-plant,
wearing your small green cowl,
little friar, little murderer,
aconitine flows
from your roots
to your deep purple flowers,
small deceiver,
centerpiece
for a poisonous
feast.

A few leaves
in the salad,
a few seeds
in the soup,
a thick root
to flavor
the stock-
& it is all over.

Let the lover beware
who buys you
for love philters.
The dose is deceptive.
One pinch leads to passion
but two will surely lead
to death.

Yet you twinkle
little blue bell
at the edge
of the garden,
wearing no warning
about your slim green neck.

Wolfsbane, Friar's cap,
Chariot of Venus-

how many may claim
to be poisonous
head to toe?

That honor-
Friar Death-
belongs to you.

poem by Erica Jong
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Conscience –

The ‘Inner Voice’ in-built by God,
In every human being born,
That tells what’s wrong and what is right,
And helps in moral decisions!

The laws of lands may change a lot;
The guidelines may be different;
The ethics too metamorphose;
But Conscience keeps the truth standard!

The modern man has ‘conscience rot’!
His faith in science has grown mammoth;
He thinks all things are human made –
Believing in mere human strength!

The world cannot ignore conscience;
No man can do much, without God;
If laws are made for human rights,
They shan’t be anti-God /Nature!

Man better heed to conscience first;
All things he does will turn out fine;
Ethical dilemmas vanish,
And soul of man will stay most pure!

poem by John Celes
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Conscience And Remorse

'GOOD-BYE,' I said to my conscience —
'Good-bye for aye and aye,'
And I put her hands off harshly,
And turned my face away;
And conscience smitten sorely
Returned not from that day.
But a time came when my spirit
Grew weary of its pace;
And I cried: 'Come back, my conscience;
I long to see thy face.'
But conscience cried: 'I cannot;
Remorse sits in my place.'

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Turn To Me

Turn to me - when your heart breaks away
Turn to me - don't turn me away
When everything's sad and down
When you're looking for somewhere to run
Why don't you turn to me?
Turn to me
Why don't you turn to me?
Turn to me
Turn to me - when the moon gets to go
Turn to me - when the story's been told
When everything's dim and grey
And you're hitting a rainbow way
Why don't you turn to me?
Turn to me
Why don't you turn to me?
Turn to me
Now that christmas is here
A shadow of fears
And if you want to seek ....
Turn to me and read these lonely lonely eyes
Why don't you?
Why don't you turn to me?
Turn to me!

song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Certain Man

A certain man wishes to be a prince
Of this earth; he also wants to be
A saint and master of the being-world.
Conscience cannot exist in the first:
The second cannot exist without conscience.
Therefore he, who has enough conscience
To be disturbed but not enough to be
Compelled, can neither reject the one
Nor follow the other...

poem by Jean Toomer
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We take nothing to the grave with us, but a good or evil conscience... It is true, terrors of conscience cast us down; and yet without terrors of conscience we cannot be raised up again.

quote by Samuel Rutherford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Freedom is inseparable from conscience. And even if it is true that all the ideas developed by the social consciousness are the product of evolution, conscience at least has nothing to do with the historic process. Conscience, both as a sense and as a concept, is a priori immanent in man, and shakes the very foundations of the society that has emerged from our ill-conceived civilisation.

quote by Andrei Tarkovsky
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Fate and Conscience

In one corner sat my conscience
In the other stood my fate
My conscience it called out to me
Asking to negotiate
But fate refused to listen
And I lay right there between
The nagging of my conscience
And the seductiveness of dreams
When fate began to listen
And conscience ceased to rail
Against all of my weaknesses
Asssuming I would fail
Then peace fell full amongst us
And these players took their place
As artefacts of reason - not fundamental to the soul
And I stood tall amongst them
And finally felt whole.

poem by David Keig
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Turn Around

Want to cross
But I dont think I can
Its too weak here
Even where I stand
Come here darling
Let me see you hold my hand
So we can mend your broken halo
All I want from you
Well all I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Wanted to damage
So I damaged it some
We used to have it all
Now I just got some
The silence, perfections, mysteries
All easy to fall from your lips
All the while lies were told to me
In shapeless secrets
When all I want from you
All I want from you
Is for you to turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Cant you turn around
Why cant you turn around?
Turn around
Turn around
Turn around

song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn Around

song performed by by Whiskeytown
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet: On Conscience

The modern man ignores his conscience,
And does much things against it if need be;
And thereby forgets God, believing Science,
And tries to be worldly-wise mostly.

God-given conscience is always right;
At times, man's judgement goes wildly amiss;
His inner voice guides man to see God's light;
His perspective of worldly things and bliss.

One can be blind of eyes and reach Heaven;
When blind to conscience, you can't see God;
Love God by serving His unfortunate men,
For souled are we to glorify the clod.
Blest is the man who acts per conscience;
You can't serve God and men by just man's science.

poem by John Celes
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Justice is conscience, not a personal conscience but the conscience of the whole of humanity. Those who clearly recognize the voice of their own conscience usually recognize also the voice of justice.

quote by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turn It On

Reaching to another day
And the world is just one step away
Making money, aiming blind
Its time to change - leave it all behind
Turn it on - whenever you can
Turn it on - you know that you can
Hear the echos in you heart
Turn your mind in - then - make a start
Anything you want to be
Will soon become reality - then youll see
Turn it on - whenever you can
Turn it on - you know that you can
Youre out of touch - so turn it on
You dont need much - to burn it on
Take a different point of view
And discover just what you can do
Getting closer every day
Now the world is just a step away - (dontdelay)
Turn it on - whenever you can
Turn it on - you know that you can
You hit the top - so turn it on
Youll never stop - just burn it on
Turn it on (turn it on) - whenever you can
Turn it on (groovinon) - you know that you can
Turn it on (turn it on, yeah) - whenever you can
Turn it on (just movinon) - you know that you can
Turn it on
Turn it on
Turn it on
Turn it on

song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On Conscience Bridge

On conscience bridge
extraordinary voices sing of
foul deeds and dark desires
of murder as a currency
rape as petty cash
On conscience bridge
tortured ghosts gather
to scream their torment
and to celebrate depravity
On conscience bridge
where i declared my love for you.

poem by Jack Lashbrook
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En.Citatepedia®.ro

Related quotes

Friar Lubin. (From The French)

The Barefooted Friar

Disconnect

The Headless Friar of Santo Tomas

Nun in FRiar Small-Bro's Grave... Yard

Remember This Lack of Conscience - 'For Maya Angelou'.

Monkshood

Conscience –

Conscience And Remorse

Turn To Me

A Certain Man

Fate and Conscience

Turn Around

Turn Around

Sonnet: On Conscience

Turn It On

On Conscience Bridge

En.Citatepedia^®.ro