Convictions following the admission into evidence of confessions which are involuntary, i.e., the product of coercion, either physical or psychological, cannot stand. This is so not because such confessions are unlikely to be true but because the methods used to extract them offend an underlying principle in the enforcement of our criminal law: that ours is an accusatorial and not an inquisitorial system a system in which the State must establish guilt by evidence independently and freely secured and may not by coercion prove its charges against an accused out of his own mouth.
I'm a maker of ballads right pretty I write them right here in the street You can buy them all over the city yours for a penny a sheet I'm a word pecker out of the printers out of the dens of Gin Lane I'll write up a scene on a counter - confessions and sins in the main, boys confessions and sins in the main Then you'll find me in Madame Geneva's keeping the demons at bay There's nothing like gin for drowning them in but they'll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day They come rattling over the cobbles they sit on their coffins of black Some are struck dumb, some gabble top-heavy on brandy or sack The pews are all full of fine fellows and the hawker has set up her shop As they're turning them off at the gallows she'll be selling right under the drop, boys selling right under the drop Then you'll find me in Madame Geneva's keeping the demons at bay There's nothing like gin for drowning them in but they'll always be back on a hanging day, on a hanging day
I make a forceful and urgent call to the entire Catholic Church, and also to every Christian of other confessions, as well as to followers of every religion and to those brothers and sisters who do not believe: peace is a good which overcomes every barrier, because it belongs to all of humanity!
That the different Christian confessions, aware of the need for a new evangelisation in this period of profound transformations, may be committed to announcing the Good News and moving towards the full unity of all Christians in order to offer a more credible testimony of the Gospel.
Pope Benedict XVI
My confessions did nothing to alter this situation, but for the first time in my life I felt that somebody actually knew me. Three somebodies, to be exact. Two were roaming the highway in a Cadillac, doing God knows what with a CB radio, but the other was as close to me as my own skin, and I could now feel the undiluted pleasure of her company.
If we knew that we would meet the Lord tomorrow-through our premature death or through His unexpected coming-what would we do today? What confessions would we make? What practices would we discontinue? What accounts would we settle? What forgivenesses would we extend? What testimonies would we bear? If we would do those things then, why not now?
Dallin H. Oaks
In our darkest hour, in my deepest despair Will you still care? Will you be there? In my trials and my tribulations Through our doubts and frustrations In my violence, in my tribulence Through my fear and my confessions In my Anguish and my pain Through my joy and my sorrow In the promise of another tomorrow I'll never let you part, for you're always in my heart
I took a break after 'Confessions.' I was real picky. And then I suddenly realized I hadn't worked in a year. And I was sort of, like, not really happy. I think people are happier when they have structure, you know? You realize that as you get older. You have to have rituals and structure.
Tulse Luper, who without too many confessions, in a sense, is a fictive version of me. I have to say he has far more exciting adventures, and certainly a lot of them sexual, than ever I've experienced. But in a sense, what you do with an alter ego, you give them all sorts of permissions and licences which you know you'll never be able to embrace in your real life.
I didn't get along with Lindsay Lohan on Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, but you have to consider that we were 16-year-old girls...From what I've experienced, women aren't good friends to one another. When guys want to hang out with you because your personality is badass, women immediately hate you.
The Confessions of Catherine de Medici is a dramatic, epic novel of an all-too-human woman whose strength and passion propelled her into the center of grand events. Meticulously-researched, this engrossing novel offers a fresh portrait of a queen who has too often been portrayed as a villain. Bravo Mr. Gortner!
Some of the tactics that are used by Foxconn and other companies throughout China is, if you are late, if you violate one of the small rules, some of the punishment is that you have to copy down quotations from the chairman of Foxconn: you have to write out confessions explaining why you were late and promising never to do it again.
I feel no disgust when I hear the confessions of those near their end, whose wounds are full of maggots...This may give you some idea of my daily work. Picture to yourself a collection of huts with 800 Lepers. No doctor; in fact, as there is no cure, there seems no place for a doctor's skill.
The story of a man's soul, however trivial, can be more interesting and instructive than the story of a whole nation, especially if it is based on the self-analysis of a mature mind and is written with no vain desire to rouse our sympathy and curiosity. The problem with Rousseau's Confessions is that he read them to his friends.
There are many more languages than we think: and man betrays himself more often than he desires. How things speak! - but there are very few listeners, so that man can only, as it were, chatter on in the void when he pours out his confessions: he squanders his 'truths', as the sun does its light. - Isn't it rather a pity that the void has no ears?
What are the two of you whispering about?" Alaric demanded irritably. She glanced over to see the warrior watching her, his eyes narrow with suspicion. "If I wanted you to know, I'd have spoken louder," she said calmly. He turned away muttering what she was sure were more blasphemies about annoying females. "You must make the priest weary with the length of your confessions," she said. He raised one eyebrow. "Who says I confess anything?
I had loved Kitty -I would always love Kitty. But I had lived with her a kind of queer half-life, hiding from my own true self. Since then I had refused to love at all, had become - or so I thought - a creature beyond passion, driving others to their secret, humiliating confessions of lust; but never offering my own.
The history of a man's soul, even the pettiest soul, is hardly less interesting and useful than the history of a whole people; especially when the former is the result of the observations of a mature mind upon itself, and has been written without any egotistical desire of arousing sympathy or astonishment. Rousseau's Confessions has precisely this defect "" he read it to his friends.
But greater than all these delights would be the possession of this wondrous library for my own use and pleasure. What more could my bibliophile's soul ask for? Here were marvels without end, treasures beyond knowing. You have seen the worst of me in these confessions. Here, then, let me throw into the opposite side of the balance, what I truly believe is the best of me: my devotion to the mental life, to those divine faculties of intellect and imagination which, when exercised to the utmost, can make gods of us all.
The only thing I don't divulge is the truth about Mother killing little Carolina. I don't know why. Perhaps I sense he's not ready to know that just yet. Maybe he never will. People can live with only so much honesty. And sometimes, people can suprise you. I talk to my brother as I never have before, trusting in him, letting the river listen to my confessions on its path toward the sea. ~pg 693
In words which can still bring tears to the eyes, St. Augustine describes the desolation into which the death of his friend Nebridius plunged him (Confessions IV, 10). Then he draws a moral. This is what comes, he says, of giving one's heart to anything but God. All human beings pass away. Do not let your happiness depend on something you may lose. If love is to be a blessing, not a misery, it must be for the only Beloved who will never pass away.
There are many reasons for keeping a diary: to make a note of facts that one considers important; to open one's heart, to give vent to one's feelings, to make confessions; from the instinct of economy which sometimes encourages a writer to make good use of even the smallest crumbs of his life, so that he may have one more book to publish; or again from vanity and self- satisfaction.
The abhorrence of society to the use of involuntary confessions does not turn alone on their inherent untrustworthiness. It also turns on the deep-rooted feeling that the police must obey the law while enforcing the law; that, in the end, life and liberty can be as much endangered from illegal methods used to convict those thought to be criminals as from the actual criminals themselves.
The blame of course belonged to Clyde, who just was not much given to talk. Also, he seemed very little curious himself: Grady, alarmed sometimes by the meagerness of his inquiries and the indifference this might suggest, supplied him liberally with personal information; which isn't to say she always told the truth, how many people in love do? or can? but at least she permitted him enough truth to account more or less accurately for all the life she had lived away from him. It was her feeling, however, that he would as soon not hear her confessions: he seemed to want her to be as elusive, as secretive as he was himself.
The Europeans are all deeply tainted with prejudices, both ecclesiastical and temporal, which they can never get rid of. They are all infected with episcopal and presbyterian creeds, and confessions of faith. They all believe that great Principle which has produced this boundless universe, Newton's universe and Herschell's universe, came down to this little ball, to be spit upon by Jews. And until this awful blasphemy is got rid of, there never will be any liberal science in the world.
Loving cats wasn't like loving skiing or comic books or arthouse films: when you walked into a pub, you usually didn't feel the need to tell people about it, either stylistically or verbally. I didn't try to hide the fact that I liked cats, it was just that a lot of the time it was hidden, by custom and by nature.' - Under the Paw: Confessions of a Cat Man, by Tom Cox
The East is unfamiliar with those confessions, memoirs, and autobiographies so beloved in the West. There is a clear difference in tonality. One's gaze never lingers on the suffering humanity of Christ, but penetrates behind the kenotic veil. To the West's mysticism of the Cross and its veneration of the Sacred Heart corresponds the eastern mysticism of the sealed tomb, from which eternal life eternal wells up.
While we destroyed the Centre Party, we have not only brought thousands of priests back into the Church, but to millions of respectable people we have restored their faith in their religion and in their priests. The union of the Evangelical Church in a single Church for the whole Reich, the Concordat with the Catholic Church, these are but milestones on the road which leads to the establishment of a useful relation and a useful co operation between the Reich and the two Confessions.
She was one of those people who was born for the greatness of a single love, for exaggerated hatred, for apocalyptic vengance, and for the most sublime forms of heroism but she was unable to shape her fate to the dimensions of her amorous vocation, so it was lived out as something flat and gray trapped between her mother's sickroom walls, wretched tenements, and the tortured confessions with which this large, opulent, hot-blooded woman made for maternity, abundance, action, and ardor- was consuming herself.
People, in general, tend to project onto others their own state of mind. Well-meaning people inevitably assume other people are well meaning. People who cheat assume everyone cheats. People who deceive assume everybody deceives. Confessions of a Whistle-Blower: Lessons Anna C. Salter. Ethics and Behavior, Volume 8, Issue 2 June 1998
Anna C. Salter
The woodchopper reads the wisdom of the ages recorded on the paper that holds his dinner, then lights his pipe with it. When we ask for a scrap of paper for the most trivial use, it may have the confessions of Augustine or the sonnets of Shakespeare, and we not observe it. The student kindles his fire, the editor packs his trunk, the sportsman loads his gun, the traveler wraps his dinner, the Irishman papers his shanty, the schoolboy peppers the plastering, the belle pins up her hair, with the printed thoughts of men.
Henry David Thoreau
Legal systems, at both the national and international level, are therefore required to recognize, guarantee and protect religious freedom, which is a right intrinsically inherent in human nature, in man's dignity as a free being, and is also an indicator of a healthy democracy and cone of the main sources of the legitimacy of the State. Religious freedom ... favors the development of relationships of mutual respect between the different Confessions and their healthy collaboration with the State and political society, without confusion of roles and without antagonism.
It is a bad indication when, in any period, men will so exalt their confessions that they force the Scriptures to a secondary importance, illustrated in one era, when as Tulloch remarks: 'Scripture as a witness, disappeared behind the Augsburg Confession"... No decrees of councils; no ordinances of synods; no "standard" of doctrines; no creed or confession, is to be urged as authority in forming the opinions of men. They may be valuable for some purposes, but not for this; they may be referred to as interesting parts of history, but not to form the faith of Christians; they may be used in the church to express its belief, not to form it.
I have eavesdropped with impunity on the lives of people who do not exist. I have peeped shamelessly into hearts and bathroom closets. I have leaned over shoulders to follow the movements of quills as they write love letters, wills and confessions. I have watched as lovers love, murderers murder and children play their make-believe. Prisons and brothels have opened their doors to me; galleons and camel trains have transported me across sea and sand; centuries and continents have fallen away at my bidding. I have spied upon the misdeeds of the mighty and witnessed the nobility of the meek. I have bent so low over sleepers in their beds that they might have felt my breath on their faces. I have seen their dreams.
No!" he cried and his face pinched with frustration and pain. "I don't want to hear more reasons why we shouldn't be together. No more confessions to explain why you want to run away from what we share." "Julian, " she attempted to interrupt again, but he held up a trembling hand. His dark gaze held hers. "I have moved heaven and earth to bring you back to me. I refuse to let you leave again. You are mine and you shall be mine for the rest of my life. Not as my mistress, but as my wife. And if you don't say yes, I shall be forced to drag you into Hyde Park and make love to you in plain view of everyone. Then you will have to accept my proposal in order to save your reputation." His face softened. "I love you, Cecilia.
I have closed my study door on the world and shut myself away with people of my imagination. For nearly sixty years I have eavesdropped with impunity on the lives of people who do not exist. I have peeped shamelessly into hearts and bathroom closets. I have leaned over shoulders to follow the movements of quills as they write love letters, wills and confessions. I have watched as lovers love, murderers murder and childern play their make-believe. Prisons and brothels have opened their doors to me; galleons and camel trains have transported me across sea and sand; centuries and continents have fallen away at my bidding. I have spied upon the misdeeds of the mighty and witnessed the nobility of the meek. I have bent so low over sleepers in their beds that they might have felt my breath on their faces. I have seen their dreams.
A NATURAL PROGRESSION TO SLOWLY ROLL INTO CONFESSIONS I LEARNT MY LESSON TRY KEEP IT CLOSE DON'T LET IT ALL GO GROOVE ARMADA MADE IT HARDER TO KEEP IT TOGETHER SHE OPENED ME LIKE A LETTER AN INVITATION TO STAY WHILE SHE GO AWAY I ANTICIPATE YOU AS YOU EVENTUATE TO HATE THE SITUATION WE CREATED 'CAUSE IT'S GETTING LATE AND WE'RE WAITING WHILE YOU'RE DEBATING IN THIS STATE WE'RE IN TURNS OUT FUN IN THE SUN BURNS OUT TO BE THE ONE IN THE DARK I UNCOVER ONLY TO DISCOVER WE KISS LIKE LOVERS I WANNA SHARE SOMETHING MORE THAN THE SUN WITH YOU TAKE YOU WHERE I WANT TO I WANNA GIVE YOU SOMETHING MORE THAN TIME SOMETHING OF MINE I WANNA LAY THESE SONGS AROUND UNTIL YOU'RE SURROUNDED AND LET IT ALL COME DOWN AND LET IT ALL COME DOWN AND LET IT ALL COME DOWN BUT UNTIL IT ALL COMES DOWN WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE THERE WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE THERE WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE FOR THE MEANWHILE THE MEANWHILE YOU NEVER TOLD ME THAT YOU'RE LOVE HAD RUN COLD YOU WERE RUNNING BEFORE YOU TOLD ME ANYTHING AT ALL SAY YOU WERE SCARED BUT ALL THE SAME COME INTO MY VISION AND TELL ME YOUR NAME HOW WAS I TO KNOW YOU WERE WAITING FOR ME NOW I'M TRYING NOT TO TAKE IT PERSONALLY TRUTH BE TOLD WHEN THE NIGHT UNFOLDS I DON'T WANT ANYBODY BUT YOU TO HOLD AND THEN IT ALL COMES DOWN... LET IT ALL COME DOWN.. WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE THERE WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE THERE WE'LL LET THAT LOVE LIE FOR THE MEANWHILE THE MEANWHILE
Why were you so happy to see me? You know, besides my general awesomeness." Marz pushed out of his chair, big grin on his face, and held out his hands. "I'm getting married!" Shane sighed. The expressions on the other two said they'd already been down this road. "All right. I'll bite." "I think the appropriate sentiment is 'congratulations', " Marz said, crossing his arms and feigning insult. "Just spill the brilliance of whatever this is about, " Shane said. "Only because you acknowledged its brilliance." Marz sat excitement rolling off the guy. "I figured out how to solve the problem of getting us eyes and ears in the back of Confessions." "By getting married?" "By pretending to get married. And what does every pretend groom need?" Marz's grin was full of anticipation. "A bride?" Shane said. Marz rolled his eyes and waved his hands. "Okay, but what else?" Shane looked between the three of them. And then the lightbulb went on. "A bachelor party, " Shane said. Marz clapped his hands. "Ding ding ding. Give the man a cigar." Yup. The idea was, in fact, brilliant. Really brilliant.
Sorrow and profound fatigue are at the heart of Dewey's silence. It had been his ambition to learn "exactly what happened in that house that night." Twice now he'd been told, and the two versions were very much alike, the only serious discrepancy being that Hickock attributed all four deaths to Smith, while Smith contended that Hickock had killed the two women. But the confessions, though they answered questions of how and why, failed to satisfy his sense of meaningful design. The crime was a psychological accident, virtually an impersonal act; the victims might as well have been killed by lightning. Except for one thing: they had experienced prolonged terror, they had suffered. And Dewey could not forget their sufferings. Nonetheless, he found it possible to look at the man beside him without anger - with, rather, a measure of sympathy - for Perry Smith's life had been no bed of roses but pitiful, an ugly and lonely progress toward one mirage and then another. Dewey's sympathy, however, was not deep enough to accommodate either forgiveness or mercy. He hoped to see Perry and his partner hanged - hanged back to back.