A story about what conscience is. Essay on the topic “Conscience”: is it important these days? Essay on Conscience

Olya and Lida went into the forest. They were tired and sat down on the grass to rest and have lunch.
They took bread, butter, and eggs out of the bag. When the girls had eaten, a nightingale began to sing not far from them. Enchanted by the beautiful song, Olya and Lida sat, afraid to move.
The nightingale stopped singing. Lida collected the remains of her food and bread crumbs and put them in her bag.
- Why are you taking this garbage with you? - Olya said. - Throw it into the bushes. After all, we are in the forest. Nobody will see.
“I’m ashamed... in front of the nightingale,” Lida answered quietly.

V.A. Sukhomlinsky. Ashamed before the nightingale

The dog barked furiously, falling on its front paws. Right in front of her, pressed against the fence, sat a small, disheveled kitten. He opened his mouth wide and meowed pitifully. Two boys stood nearby and waited to see what would happen. A woman looked out the window and hurriedly ran out onto the porch. She drove the dog away and angrily shouted to the boys:
- Shame on you!
- What - shameful? We didn't do anything! - the boys were surprised.
- This is bad! - the woman answered angrily.

V. Oseeva Who's the boss? Story

The big black dog's name was Zhuk. Two boys, Kolya and Vanya, picked up the Beetle on the street. His leg was broken. Kolya and Vanya looked after him together, and when Zhuk recovered, each of the boys wanted to become his master. But they could not decide who the owner of the Beetle was, so their dispute always ended in a quarrel.
One day they were walking through the forest. The beetle ran ahead. The boys started arguing again.
“My dog,” said Kolya, “I was the first to see the Beetle and picked him up.”
“No, my,” Vanya was angry, “I bandaged her paw and carried tasty morsels for her.”
Nobody wanted to give in. The boys quarreled.
- My! My! - both shouted.
Suddenly two huge shepherd dogs jumped out from the forester’s yard. They rushed at the Beetle and knocked him to the ground. Vanya quickly climbed the tree and shouted to his comrade:
- Save yourself!
But Kolya grabbed a stick and rushed to help Zhuk. The forester came running to the noise and drove his shepherds away.
- Whose dog? - he shouted angrily.
“Mine,” said Kolya.
Vanya was silent.

Yura entered the bus and sat down in a child's seat. Following Yura, a military man entered. Yura jumped up:
- Sit down please!
- Sit, sit! I'll sit here.
The military man sat down behind Yura. An old woman walked up the steps.
Yura wanted to offer her a seat, but another boy beat him to it.
“It turned out ugly,” Yura thought and began to look vigilantly at the door.
A girl came in from the front platform. She was clutching a tightly folded flannel blanket, from which protruded a lace cap.
Yura jumped up:
- Sit down please!
The girl nodded her head, sat down and, opening the blanket, pulled out a large doll.
The passengers laughed, and Yura blushed.
“I thought she was a woman with a child,” he muttered.
The soldier patted him on the shoulder approvingly:
- Nothing, nothing! The girl also needs to give way! And even a girl with a doll!

Tanka is not surprised by anything. She always says: “That’s not surprising!” - even if it happens surprisingly. Yesterday, in front of everyone, I jumped over such a puddle... No one could jump over, but I jumped over! Everyone was surprised, except Tanya:
- Just think! So what? That's not surprising!
I kept trying to surprise her. But he couldn't surprise me. No matter how hard I tried.
I hit a little sparrow with a slingshot.
I learned to walk on my hands and whistle with one finger in my mouth.
She saw it all. But I wasn't surprised.
I tried my best. Whatever I did! Climbed trees, walked without a hat in winter...
She still wasn't surprised.
And one day I just went out into the yard with a book. I sat down on the bench. And he began to read.
I didn't even see Tanka. And she says:
- Marvelous! I wouldn't have thought that! He reads!

V. Oseeva Time Story

Two boys stood on the street under the clock and talked.
“I didn’t solve the example because it had brackets,” Yura justified himself.
“And I because there were very large numbers,” said Oleg.
- We can solve it together, we still have time!
The clock outside showed half past two.
“We have a whole half hour,” said Yura. - During this time, the pilot can transport passengers from one city to another.
- And my uncle, the captain, managed to load the entire crew into the boats in twenty minutes during the shipwreck.
“What - over twenty!..” Yura said busily. - Sometimes five to ten minutes mean a lot. You just need to take every minute into account.
- Here’s a case! During one competition...
A lot of interesting cases the boys remembered.
“And I know...” Oleg suddenly stopped and looked at his watch. - Exactly two!
Yura gasped.
- Let's run! - said Yura, - We are late for school!
- What about an example? - Oleg asked in fear.
Yura just waved his hand as he ran.

V. Oseeva On the rink Story

The day was sunny. The ice sparkled. There were few people at the skating rink. The little girl, with her arms outstretched comically, rode from bench to bench. Two schoolchildren were tying up their skates and looking at Vitya.
Vitya performed different tricks - sometimes he rode on one leg, sometimes he spun around like a top.
- Well done! - one of the boys shouted to him.
Vitya rushed around the circle like an arrow, made a dashing turn and ran into the girl. The girl fell. Vitya was scared.
“I accidentally...” he said, brushing snow off her fur coat. - Did you hurt yourself?
The girl smiled:
- Knee...
Laughter came from behind.
"They're laughing at me!" - thought Vitya and turned away from the girl with annoyance.
- What a miracle - a knee! What a crybaby! - he shouted, driving past the schoolchildren.
- Come to us! - they called.
Vitya approached them. Holding hands, all three merrily slid across the ice. And the girl sat on the bench, rubbing her bruised knee and crying.

Katya walked up to her desk and gasped: the drawer was pulled out, the new paints were scattered, the brushes were dirty, and puddles of brown water were spread on the table.
- Alyoshka! - Katya shouted. “Alyoshka!..” and, covering her face with her hands, began to cry loudly.
Alyosha stuck his round head through the door. His cheeks and nose were stained with paint.
- I didn’t do anything to you! - he said quickly.
Katya rushed at him with her fists, but her little brother disappeared behind the door and jumped through the open window into the garden.
- I will take revenge on you! - Katya screamed with tears.
Alyosha, like a monkey, climbed up the tree and, hanging from the lower branch, showed his nose to his sister.
- She cried!.. Because of some colors she cried!
- You will cry for me too! - Katya shouted. - You'll cry!
- Am I the one who will pay? - Alyosha laughed and began to quickly climb up. - Catch me first!
Suddenly he stumbled and hung, grabbing onto a thin branch. The branch crunched and broke off. Alyosha fell.
Katya ran into the garden. She immediately forgot her ruined paints and the quarrel with her brother.
- Alyosha! - she shouted. - Alyosha!
The little brother sat on the ground and, blocking his head with his hands, looked at her in fear.
- Get up! Get up!
But Alyosha pulled his head into his shoulders and closed his eyes.
- Can not? - Katya shouted, feeling Alyosha’s knees. - Hold on to me. “She hugged her little brother by the shoulders and carefully pulled him to his feet. - Does it hurt you?
Alyosha shook his head and suddenly began to cry.
- What, you can’t stand? - Katya asked.
Alyosha cried even louder and hugged his sister tightly.
- I will never touch your paints again... never... never... I will!

Vitya lost his breakfast. During the big break, all the guys were having breakfast, and Vitya stood on the sidelines.
- Why do not you eat? - Kolya asked him.
- I lost my breakfast...
“It’s bad,” said Kolya, biting off a large piece of white bread. - There's still a long way to go until lunch!
- Where did you lose it? - Misha asked.
“I don’t know...” Vitya said quietly and turned away.
“You probably carried it in your pocket, but you should put it in your bag,” said Misha.
But Volodya didn’t ask anything. He approached Vita, broke a piece of bread and butter in half and handed it to his comrade:
- Take it, eat it!

Katya had two green pencils. Lena has none. So Lena asks Katya:
- Give me a green pencil!
And Katya says:
- I'll ask my mother.
The next day both girls come to school. Lena asks:
- Did your mother allow it?
And Katya sighed and said:
- Mom allowed it, but I didn’t ask my brother.
“Well, ask your brother again,” says Lena.
Katya arrives the next day.
- Well, did your brother allow you? - Lena asks.
- Brother allowed it, but I'm afraid you'll break the pencil.
“I’m being careful,” says Lena.
“Look,” says Katya, “don’t fix it, don’t press hard and don’t put it in your mouth.” Don't draw too much.
“I just need to draw leaves on the trees and green grass,” says Lena.
“That’s a lot,” says Katya, and her eyebrows frown. And she made a dissatisfied face.
Lena looked at her and walked away. I didn't take a pencil. Katya was surprised and ran after her.
- Well, what are you doing? Take it!
“No need,” Lena answers.
During the lesson the teacher asks:
- Why, Lenochka, are the leaves on your trees blue?
- There is no green pencil.
- Why didn’t you take it from your girlfriend?
Lena is silent. And Katya blushed and said:
- I gave it to her, but she doesn’t take it.
The teacher looked at both:
- You have to give so that you can take.

V. Oseeva

What is not allowed is not allowed

Story

One day mom said to dad:
- Don't raise your voice!
And dad immediately spoke in a whisper.
Since then, Tanya has never raised her voice. Sometimes she wants to scream and be capricious, but she does her best to restrain herself. Still would! If dad can’t do this, then how can Tanya?
No way! What is not allowed is not allowed!

E. Permyak Kite Story

A good breeze blew. Smooth. Only fly kites in such a wind. A paper kite flies high. He pulls the thread tight. The wet tail flutters merrily.
Borya decided to make his own kite. He had the paper. And he planed the shingles. There was not enough wetness for the tail and threads on which the snakes were released.
Syoma had the threads. A whole skein. If only he could get a piece of paper and wet his tail, he would also fly his own kite.
Petya had a washcloth. He saved it for the snake a long time ago. All he needed was thread and a sheet of paper with shingles.
Everyone has everything, but everyone is missing something.
The boys sit on the hill and grieve. Borya pressed his sheet of shingles to his chest, Syoma clenched his threads into his fist, Petya hides his washcloth in his bosom.
A good breeze is blowing. Smooth. Other guys launched kites into the sky. A paper kite flies high. He pulls the thread tight. The wet tail flutters merrily.
Borya, Syoma and Petya could also fly such a kite. Even better. They just haven’t learned something yet, that’s the problem.

Volodya stood at the window and looked out onto the street, where the big dog Polkan was basking in the sun.
A little Pug ran up to Polkan and began to rush and bark at him; he grabbed his huge paws and muzzle with his teeth and seemed to be very annoying to the large and gloomy dog.
- Wait a minute, she’ll ask you! - said Volodya. “She will teach you a lesson.”
But Mops did not stop playing, and Polkan looked at him very favorably.
“You see,” Volodya’s father said, “Polkan is kinder than you.” When your little brothers and sisters start playing with you, it will certainly end with you pinning them. Polkan knows that it is a shame for the big and strong to offend the small and weak.

Valya was a coward. She was afraid of mice, frogs, bulls, spiders, caterpillars. That's what they called her - "coward".
One day the guys were playing outside, on a large pile of sand. The boys built a fortress, and Valya and her little brother Andryusha cooked lunch for the dolls. Valya was not allowed to play in the war - after all, she was a coward, and Andryusha was not suitable for war, because he could only walk on all fours.
Suddenly, shouts were heard from the direction of the collective farm barn:
- The lochmach has broken free from his chain!.. He’s running towards us!..
Everyone turned around.
- Lokhmach! Lokhmach!.. Be careful, guys!..
The guys rushed in all directions. Valya ran into the garden and slammed the gate behind her.
Only little Andryusha remained on the pile of sand: you can’t go far on all fours. He lay in the sand fortress and roared with fear, and the formidable enemy was attacking.
Valya squealed, ran out of the gate, grabbed a scoop in one hand, and a doll's frying pan in the other, and, shielding Andryusha, stood at the gates of the fortress.
A huge, furious dog was rushing across the lawn straight towards her. His grinning, fanged mouth is already very close. Valya threw a frying pan at him, then a scoop and shouted with all her might:
- Go away!
- Fut! Fucking, Lokhmach! Here! - It was the watchman who ran across the street across Lokhmach.
Hearing a familiar voice, Lokhmach stopped and wagged his tail. The watchman took him by the collar and led him away. The street became quiet. The guys slowly crawled out of their shelters: one climbed down from the fence, the other crawled out of the ditch... Everyone approached the sand fortress. Andryusha sat and was already smiling, wiping his eyes with his dirty fists.
But Valya cried bitterly.
- What are you doing? - the guys asked. - Lokhmach bit you?
“No,” she answered, “he didn’t bite... I was just very scared...

O. Bucen Mom's assistants Story

Olya and Lida were walking in the yard. Olya saw Petya helping his mother hang out the laundry and said to her friend:
- And today I helped my mother.
“Me too,” answered Lida. - And what did you do?
- I cleared the table, washed all the dishes, wiped the plates, spoons, forks and put them in the buffet.
- I cleaned my shoes.
- Mom’s? - Olya asked.
- No, ours.
- Is this helping mom? - Olya laughed. - You cleaned them for yourself!
- So what? But mom will have less work today,” said Lida.

O. Bucen Who to be friends with Story

Nyura moved to a new apartment in another area of ​​the city. She was sorry to part with her old school, especially with her friend Valya. Nyura didn’t know anyone at the new school. Therefore, during lessons she did not address anyone and no one addressed her. Nyura kept looking closely at the teacher, at the schoolchildren, at the class.
One day during a big break, her classmate Galya came up to her and asked:
-Are you not friends with anyone yet?
“No,” Nyura answers.
“And I’m not friends with anyone,” Galya sighed. “The girls in our class are bad: Lenka is a troublemaker, Vera is a cunning one, Nadya is a liar, and Irka is a bully.”
Galya went through almost all the girls - they all turned out to be bad. She just didn’t say anything to herself.
- I just don’t know who you can make friends with here?!
“Don’t worry,” Nyura answered. “I don’t know who I’ll make friends with yet.” But I know who I shouldn’t be friends with.

R. Fraerman Girl with a stone Story

The school where Anya Mamedova studied stood on the very edge of the city, located at the foot of high mountains.
Anya Mamedova was small, very small even for her eight years - a Kazakh girl, with black eyes, black pigtails, in which the red ribbon seemed especially bright.
It was difficult for Anya to study, more difficult than for other children, since she spoke Russian poorly.
But she wanted to speak Russian well and study better than others, so no one came to her lessons before her.
As soon as the clock hanging on the wall in the teacher's room struck eight, a clear voice was heard on the threshold of the school:
- Hello, Marya Ivanovna! Here I come!
This is what Anya told the teacher.
And no matter what the weather was like outside: whether it was raining, which often descended into the valley from the mountains along a rocky road, whether knee-deep loose snow fell for a short time, whether it was so hot that even the birds opened their beaks, the girl’s voice always rang out. on the threshold of the school at one time:
- Hello, Marya Ivanovna! Here he is - me, Anya Mamedova.

R. Fraerman Girl with a stone Story

But one morning, along the same road along which the rains came from the mountains, a huge cloud descended onto the city, covered in black shreds and terrible curls, and a hurricane struck. As if on chains, the air creaked and swayed above the street. At first the birds got scared and flew away to their nests. Then the dogs hid under the houses. Young trees bent to the ground, and green, still fragrant leaves fell from them.
The wind was so cruel.
Marya Ivanovna hurried to lock all the doors in the school and close the windows with hooks.
She looked anxiously at her favorite tree, which grew nearby on the porch. It was a mountain oak, already old, with large leaves firmly sitting on their long stems. He alone did not bend under the storm. But it also rang all over and dropped branches to the ground, and the noise of its leaves penetrated even through the walls into the school, where now there was no one except the teacher.
Marya Ivanovna was not expecting any students that day. The street was deserted. Only some impudent boy tried to run across it. But the wind knocked him off his feet and carried his hat to God knows where.
Suddenly Marya Ivanovna heard someone’s voice under the window. She hurried out onto the porch.
The wind immediately grabbed her by the shoulders and forcefully turned her towards the wall. But when she turned around, she saw a little girl at the porch. She was holding a huge stone in her hands.
- Here I come! - said the girl.
It was Anya Mamedova.
Her face was pale, the wind tore her black braids with bright ribbons, but her small figure stood straight and hardly swayed under the storm.
- Why did you bring this heavy stone? Drop him quickly! - the teacher shouted.
“I took it on purpose so that the wind wouldn’t carry me away.” I was afraid of being late for school, but the wind didn’t let me in, and I carried this stone for a long time. And so I came - Anya Mamedova. Give hurry up your hand“, - said the girl, straining with all her might so as not to let go of her burden.
Then the teacher, fighting the wind, ran up to Anya Mamedova and hugged her tightly.
And so, hugging, the two of them entered the school, and carefully placed the stone on the porch.
The hurricane was still making noise.
But the oak tree they passed by shielded them from the wind, swinging its mighty branches widely above them. He also liked this girl, who brought with her a heavy stone so that she could stand firmly under the storm without bending.
He was like that himself.

We went to look after the calves. And Nina Petrovna, the calf worker, told us:
- Don't scare them, please. Don't be angry, don't offend!
We are speaking:
- What are you talking about, Nina Petrovna, will we offend you?
“And this,” he says, “can be done accidentally.” You yourself won’t notice how much you offended... Well,” he says, “there are sometimes angry and lively cows.” Or someone who is afraid of everything. Or very nervous, restless. Have you noticed, perhaps?
- We noticed.
- The shepherd is offended by such cows. But there is no need to be offended, these cows are unfortunate.
- Even the most energetic one is unhappy?
- Even the most energetic one.
- So she butts!
- And why? If they had raised her tenderly, affectionately, she would have grown up affectionate... It would never have occurred to her to butt heads!

My dad is a geologist. He is looking for oil in the desert. One day a letter came from him from the expedition. Dad wrote that in the place where he now works there are a lot of turtles, and he caught one for me, a small one.

“IT IS NOT BIGGER THAN YOUR PALM,” Dad wrote in large block letters so I could read the letter. - HER SHELL IS NOT VERY HARD. I PUT HER IN A PACKAGE BOX AND FEED HER CUCUMBER AND BREAD. VERY CUTE TURTLE. YOU'LL LIKE SHE."

I wish I didn't like her! I told everyone in the yard what kind of turtle my dad caught and how he feeds it with cucumber and bread. I nicknamed her Chapa.

In every letter, dad now wrote specifically for me about the turtle:

“SHE'S PRETTY Nimble. RUNS AROUND THE BOX, PUSHING INTO THE WALLS. I POURED SAND IN HER BOX SO THAT SHE FELT IN A FAMILIAR ENVIRONMENT.”

Yes! I also need to think about a corner for Chapa. We have sand in the yard, but this box?..

Mom said:

I can give you a shoe box.

No, she will be cramped in the box.

I went out into the yard and met Anyuta. And she figured out where to get the box: near the stall where they sell oranges.

We chose a box with a sticker - a stork with an orange in its beak. They placed the box in my room, under the window. Mom allowed me to take a plastic bowl, we buried it in the sand to the very edge, poured water, and it looked like a lake.

While waiting for Chapa, I placed a plastic crocodile, a hare and a fire engine in a box.

Dad wrote:
“HER MOUTH IS LIKE A BEAK, AND HER SHELL IS LIGHT BROWN WITH DARK STRETCHES SO THAT IT WILL BE UNNOTICEABLE AMONG THE SAND. IT'S CALLED "PROTECTIVE PAINT".

I would rather, I would rather see Chapa, see how she takes bread with her beak!

“THE TURTLE IS SAD FOR SOMETHING,” dad wrote in his last letter. - YOUR FAVORITE CUCUMBER AND HE DOESN’T EAT IT. IT WILL STAND ON IT’S HIND LEGS, WILL REST ON YOUR FRONT LEGS AGAINST THE WALL OF THE BOX, WILL EXTEND YOUR NECK AND STAND LIKE THIS FOR A LONG TIME.”

I thought: you really will be sad. If, for example, they put me in a box, even the most spacious one, I would be so sad! The main thing is that I would know that all the guys were running around in the yard, and I was in the box. No, of course I’ll let her out, let her crawl around the apartment. But all the same, for her, our entire apartment will be like a big box. She's used to the desert.

One day my mother said:

Guess what good thing will happen tomorrow?

The turtle is coming! - I guessed.

You are still shameless, Andryushka! Dad! Dad is coming tomorrow.

“Well, yes, dad,” I agreed, “and he’ll bring the turtle.”

In the morning mom said:

Cottage cheese and milk on the table. Eat, and I’ll bake pies.

And she began to bake pies with cabbage.

Finally the long-awaited call came. Dad's call! Mom and I raced to open the door. Dad was so tanned - just black, only his teeth sparkled. He hugged my mother, then picked me up in his arms and threw me up.

Wow, how I've grown!

Dad, open your suitcase quickly! - I demanded. - She'll suffocate!

Who? - Dad asked.

Like who? Turtle!

Dad said embarrassedly:

Forgive me. I let her go.

How?..

You see,” said dad, “just before leaving, I took her out of the box - let him, I think, touch her for the last time.” native land. I put her on the sand, and she let go! She runs away from me, only holes in the sand from her feet remain. I could, of course, catch up with her... But I regretted it. I thought: Andrey will understand me. He won't get angry.

And I wasn't angry. On the contrary, I was happy. I would do exactly the same thing if I were my dad!

S. Baruzdin Rejected bear Story

A new film was being filmed at the film studio. There should have been a scene like this in the film. A bear crawls into a hut where a road-weary man is sleeping. A man wakes up in fright. The bear gets even more scared when it sees a person. He runs out the window. That's all. A trivial scene, for two minutes.

The studio workers needed a bear. In order not to search for a long time, we decided to take a bear from the circus. There was just a program going on in the city in which a bear trainer performed.

The next morning the trainer brought the largest bear to the studio.

“Don’t be afraid of him,” said the trainer. - My Toptygin is completely tame.

To confirm his words, the bear good-naturedly licked everyone’s hands, willingly ate the cake offered to him, and, having found a bicycle in one of the studio halls, deftly rode it for a ride.

Truly an artist! - the director was delighted. - This is exactly what we need. We will even film it without a rehearsal!

Part of the hut was built in the studio pavilion - with a window and door and a bench against the wall. The bear had to enter the door and jump out of the window.

The day of filming arrived. We prepared the apparatus. The artist lay down on the bench and pretended to be asleep. The director gave the command. They turned on the bright light. The trainer let the bear in through the slightly open door of the hut. And then the unexpected happened.
Once in the bright light, the bear stood on its hind legs and began to dance. Then he somersaulted over his head several times and, satisfied, sat down in the middle of the hut.

No! No! Leave it alone! This will not work! - the director shouted. - Why is he dancing and tumbling? It's a wild bear!

The embarrassed trainer guiltily led the bear behind the scenery. Everyone started over. Team again. Again the artist stretched out on the bench. The bright lights were turned on again.

Mishka, leaning sideways into the half-open door of the hut, saw the bright rays of the spotlights, immediately raised his hind legs and walked “on his hands.”

Stop! Leave it alone! - shouted the annoyed director. - Is it really impossible to somehow explain to him that all this is not necessary?

But it was difficult to explain to the bear.

The whole day went by like this. And the next one. And one more. And all the same, as soon as the next shooting began and the bear came under the spotlight, he began to diligently perform the circus acts he was familiar with.

Finally the director couldn't stand it anymore.

Your bear is not suitable for us,” he told the trainer. - He, you see, is an artist, and we need a simple, uneducated bear...

So the trainer had to take away his “rejected” Toptygin.

But the bear himself, apparently, was very pleased that he had completed his program so well. Leaving the studio, he politely said goodbye to everyone: be healthy, friends, until the next performance!

We were alone in the dining room - me and Boom. I dangled my legs under the table, and Boom lightly bit my bare heels. I was tickled and happy. A large card of my father’s hung over the table; my mother and I only recently gave it to him to enlarge. On this card, dad had such a cheerful, kind face. But when, while playing with Boom, I began to sway in the chair, holding onto the edge of the table, it seemed to me that dad was shaking his head.

Look, Boom,” I said in a whisper and, swaying heavily in my chair, grabbed the edge of the tablecloth.

I heard a ringing... My heart sank. I quietly slid off the chair and lowered my eyes. Pink shards lay on the floor, the golden rim glittered in the sun.

Boom crawled out from under the table, carefully sniffed the shards and sat down, tilting his head to the side and raising one ear up.

Quick footsteps were heard from the kitchen.

What is this? Who is this? - Mom knelt down and covered her face with her hands. “Daddy’s cup... daddy’s cup...” she repeated bitterly. Then she raised her eyes and asked reproachfully: “Is that you?”

Pale pink shards glittered on her palms. My knees were shaking, my tongue was slurred.

It's... it's... Boom!

Boom? - Mom got up from her knees and slowly asked: - Is this Boom?

I nodded my head. Boom, hearing his name, moved his ears and wagged his tail. Mom looked first at me, then at him.

How did he break it?

My ears were burning. I spread my hands:

He jumped a little... and with his paws...

Mom's face darkened. She took Boom by the collar and walked with him to the door. I looked after her in fear. Boom ran out into the yard barking.

“He will live in a booth,” said my mother and, sitting down at the table, she thought about something. Her fingers slowly raked the bread crumbs into a pile, rolled them into balls, and her eyes looked somewhere over the table at one point.

I stood there, not daring to approach her. The boom scraped at the door.

Don't let him in! - Mom said quickly and, taking me by the hand, pulled me towards her. Pressing her lips to my forehead, she was still thinking about something, then quietly asked: “Are you very scared?”

Of course, I was very scared: after all, ever since dad died, mom and I took such care of every thing he had. Dad always drank tea from this cup.

Are you very scared? - Mom repeated. I nodded my head and hugged her neck tightly.

If you... accidentally,” she began slowly.

But I interrupted her, hurrying and stuttering:

It's not me... It's Boom... He jumped... He jumped a little... Forgive him, please!

Mom’s face turned pink, even her neck and ears turned pink. She stood up.

Boom will no longer come into the room, he will live in the booth.

I was silent. My dad was looking at me from a photograph above the table...

Boom lay on the porch, his smart muzzle resting on his paws, his eyes staring at the locked door, his ears catching every sound coming from the house. He responded to voices with a quiet squeal and beat his tail on the porch. Then he laid his head on his paws again and sighed noisily.

Time passed, and with each passing hour my heart became heavier. I was afraid that it would soon get dark, the lights in the house would go out, all the doors would be closed, and Boom would be left alone all night. He will be cold and scared. Goosebumps ran down my spine. If the cup had not been dad's and if dad himself had been alive, nothing would have happened... Mom never punished me for anything unexpected. And I was not afraid of punishment - I would gladly endure the worst punishment. But mom took such good care of dad’s everything! And then, I didn’t confess right away, I deceived her, and now every hour my guilt became more and more.

I went out onto the porch and sat down next to “Boom.” Pressing my head against his soft fur, I accidentally looked up and saw my mother. She stood at the open window and looked at us. Then, afraid that she would read all my thoughts on my face , I shook my finger at Boom and said loudly:

There was no need to break the cup.

After dinner, the sky suddenly darkened, clouds emerged from somewhere and stopped over our house.

Mom said:

It will be raining.

I have asked:

Let Boom...

At least to the kitchen... mommy!

She shook her head. I fell silent, trying to hide my tears and fingering the fringe of the tablecloth under the table.

“Go to sleep,” my mother said with a sigh. I undressed and lay down, burying my head in the pillow. Mom left. Through the slightly open door from her room, a yellow strip of light penetrated to me. It was black outside the window. The wind shook the trees. All the most terrible, melancholy and frightening things gathered for me outside this night window. And in this darkness, through the noise of the wind, I distinguished Boom’s voice. Once, running up to my window, he barked abruptly. I propped myself up on my elbow and listened. Boom... Boom... After all, he is daddy's too. Together with him, we accompanied dad to the ship for the last time. And when dad left, Boom didn’t want to eat anything and mom tried to persuade him with tears. She promised him that dad would return. But dad didn't come back...

Frustrated barking could be heard either closer or further away. Boom ran from the door to the windows, he yawned, begged, scratched his paws and squealed pitifully. A narrow strip of light was still leaking from under my mother’s door. I bit my nails, buried my face in the pillow and couldn’t decide on anything. And suddenly the wind hit my window with force, large drops of rain drummed on the glass. I jumped up. Barefoot, wearing only a shirt, I rushed to the door and opened it wide.

She slept, sitting at the table and resting her head on her bent elbow. With both hands I lifted her face; a crumpled wet handkerchief lay under her cheek.

She opened her eyes and hugged me with warm arms. The sad barking of a dog reached us through the sound of the rain.

Mother! Mother! I broke the cup! It's me, me! Let Boom...

Her face trembled, she grabbed my hand, and we ran to the door. In the dark I bumped into chairs and sobbed loudly. The boom dried my tears with a cold, rough tongue; it smelled of rain and wet wool. Mom and I were drying him with a dry towel, and he raised all four paws in the air and rolled on the floor in exuberant delight. Then he calmed down, lay down in his place and, without blinking, looked at us. He thought: “Why did they kick me out into the yard, why did they let me in and caress me now?”

Mom didn't sleep for a long time. She also thought:

“Why didn’t my son tell me the truth right away, but woke me up at night?”

And I also thought, lying in my bed: “Why didn’t my mother scold me at all, why was she even glad that I broke the cup and not Boom?”

That night we didn’t sleep for a long time, and each of us three had our own “why”.

Brief retelling of Oseev Why? (Conscience)

The story is told from the boy's point of view. He, sitting at the table, played on a chair, swinging on it. The dog Boom was nearby - he caught the boy’s playful mood and tried to either lick him or kindly bite him on the heels. The boy looked at a photograph of his father, who was already dead. This photo was so kind, but it seemed to warn, “Don’t play around.” Then the chair tilted sharply, the boy grabbed the tablecloth, and the cup that his father always used flew off the table.

The boy was scared, and his mother came into the room and was so upset that she covered her face with her hands, and then asked the boy if he had done it. But the boy, stuttering, replied that Boom did it. Mom kicked the dog out of the house and became even more upset because she realized that her son was lying to her. The boy suffered, seeing his furry friend suffering on the street and asking to come into the house. The main character was tormented by his conscience; he could not find a place for himself, constantly asking his mother to let the dog go home. At night it started to rain, the boy’s guilt became so strong that he ran to his mother and confessed everything. Mom happily let the dog go home, but the boy still did not understand why his mother did not scold him.

Dolokhov in the novel by L.N. Tolstoy's War and Peace apologizes to Pierre on the eve of the Battle of Borodino. In moments of danger, during a period of general tragedy, conscience awakens in this tough man. Bezukhov is surprised by this. Dolokhov shows himself as a decent person when he, with other Cossacks and hussars, frees a party of prisoners, where Pierre will be; when he finds it difficult to speak, seeing Petya lying motionless. Conscience is a moral category, without it it is impossible to imagine a real person.

Issues of conscience and honor are important for Nikolai Rostov. Having lost a lot of money to Dolokhov, he promises himself to return it to his father, who saved him from dishonor. After a while, Rostov will do the same to his father when he enters into an inheritance and accepts all his debts. Could he have acted differently if in his parents' home he was instilled with a sense of duty and responsibility for his actions. Conscience is that internal law that does not allow Nikolai Rostov to act immorally.

2) “The Captain’s Daughter” (Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin).

Captain Mironov is also an example of fidelity to his duty, honor and conscience. He did not betray the Fatherland and the Empress, but chose to die with dignity, boldly throwing accusations in Pugachev’s face that he was a criminal and a state traitor.

3) “The Master and Margarita” (Mikhail Afanasyevich Bulgakov).

The problem of conscience and moral choice is closely connected with the image of Pontius Pilate. Woland begins to tell this story, and the main character becomes not Yeshua Ha-Nozri, but Pilate himself, who executed his defendant.

4) “Quiet Don” (M.A. Sholokhov).

Grigory Melekhov in the years civil war led the Cossack hundred. He lost this position due to the fact that he did not allow his subordinates to rob prisoners and the population. (In past wars, robbery was common among the Cossacks, but it was regulated). This behavior of his caused dissatisfaction not only from his superiors, but also from Panteley Prokofievich, his father, who, taking advantage of his son’s opportunities, decided to “profit” from the loot. Panteley Prokofievich had already done this, having visited his eldest son Petro, and was confident that Grigory would allow him to rob the Cossacks who sympathized with the “reds”. Gregory’s position in this regard was specific: he took “only food and horse feed, vaguely afraid of touching someone else’s property and disgusted by robbery.” The robbery of his own Cossacks seemed “particularly disgusting” to him, even if they supported the “Reds”. “Isn’t there enough of your own? You are boors! People were shot for such things on the German front,” he says angrily to his father. (Part 6 Chapter 9)

5) “Hero of Our Time” (Mikhail Yurievich Lermontov)

The fact that for an act committed contrary to the voice of conscience, sooner or later there will be retribution is confirmed by the fate of Grushnitsky. Wanting to take revenge on Pechorin and humiliate him in the eyes of his acquaintances, Grushnitsky challenges him to a duel, knowing that Pechorin’s pistol will not be loaded. A vile act towards a former friend, towards a person. Pechorin accidentally learns about Grushnitsky’s plans and, as subsequent events show, prevents his own murder. Without waiting for Grushnitsky’s conscience to awaken and him to admit his treachery, Pechorin kills him in cold blood.

6) “Oblomov” (Ivan Aleksandrovich Goncharov).

Mikhei Andreevich Tarantiev and his godfather Ivan Matveevich Mukhoyarov commit lawless acts against Ilya Ilyich Oblomov several times. Tarantiev, taking advantage of the disposition and trust of the simple-minded and ignorant Oblomov, after getting him drunk, forces him to sign a contract for renting housing on conditions that are extortionate for Oblomov. Later, he will recommend the swindler and thief Zaterty to him as the manager of the estate, telling him about the professional merits of this man. Hoping that Zaterty is indeed a smart and honest manager, Oblomov will entrust him with the estate. There is something frightening in its validity and timelessness in the words of Mukhoyarov: “Yes, godfather, until there are no more idiots in Rus' who sign papers without reading, our brother can live!” (Part 3, Chapter 10). For the third time, Tarantyev and his godfather will oblige Oblomov to pay a non-existent debt under a loan letter to his landlady. How low must a person fall if he allows himself to profit from the innocence, gullibility, and kindness of other people. Mukhoyarov did not even spare his own sister and nephews, forcing them to live almost from hand to mouth, for the sake of their own wealth and well-being.

7) “Crime and Punishment” (Fyodor Mikhailovich Dostoevsky).

Raskolnikov, who created his theory of “blood on the conscience,” calculated everything and checked it “arithmetically.” It is his conscience that does not allow him to become “Napoleon”. The death of the “useless” old woman causes unexpected consequences in the lives of the people around Raskolnikov; therefore, when solving moral issues, one cannot trust only logic and reason. “The voice of conscience remains for a long time at the threshold of Raskolnikov’s consciousness, but deprives him of the emotional balance of the “ruler,” dooms him to the torment of loneliness and separates him from people” (G. Kurlyandskaya). The struggle between reason, which justifies blood, and conscience, which protests against shed blood, ends for Raskolnikov with the victory of conscience. “There is one law - the moral law,” says Dostoevsky. Having understood the truth, the hero returns to the people from whom he was separated by the crime he committed.

Lexical meaning:

1) Conscience is a category of ethics that expresses an individual’s ability to exercise moral self-control, to determine from the standpoint of good and evil the attitude towards one’s own and others’ actions and lines of behavior. S. makes his assessments as if independently of practicality. interest, but in reality, in various manifestations, a person’s S. reflects the impact on him of specific. historical, social class living conditions and education.

2) Conscience is one of the qualities of the human personality (properties of the human intellect), ensuring the preservation of homeostasis (the state of the environment and one’s position in it) and conditioned by the ability of the intellect to model its future state and the behavior of other people in relation to the “bearer” of conscience. Conscience is one of the products of education.

3) Conscience - (shared knowledge, know, know): a person’s ability to be aware of his duty and responsibility to other people, to independently evaluate and control his behavior, to be a judge of his own thoughts and actions. “The matter of conscience is the matter of a person, which he leads against himself” (I. Kant). Conscience is a moral feeling that allows you to determine the value of your own actions.

4) Conscience - the concept of moral consciousness, internal conviction of what is good and evil, consciousness of moral responsibility for one’s behavior; expression of an individual’s ability to exercise moral self-control on the basis of the norms and rules of behavior formulated in a given society, to independently formulate high moral responsibilities for oneself, to demand that one fulfill them and to self-assess one’s actions from the heights of morality and morality.

Aphorisms:

“The strongest feature that distinguishes man from animals is his moral sense, or conscience. And its dominance is expressed in the short but powerful and extremely expressive word “must.” Charles Darwin

“Honor is external conscience, and conscience is internal honor.” And Schopenhauer.

“A clear conscience is not afraid of lies, rumors, or gossip.” Ovid

“Never act against your conscience, even if state interests require it.” A. Einstein

“Often people are proud of the purity of their conscience only because they have a short memory.” L.N. Tolstoy

“How can the heart not be content when the conscience is calm!” D.I. Fonvizin

“Along with state laws, there are also laws of conscience that make up for the omissions of the legislation.” G. Fielding.

“You can’t live without a conscience and with a great mind.” M. Gorky

“Only he who has clothed himself in the armor of lies, impudence and shamelessness will not flinch before the judgment of his conscience.” M. Gorky

• Updated: May 31, 2016
• By: Mironova Marina Viktorovna

About conscience

Conscience is a property of a person’s personality. Conscience is a sense of truth, an inner voice that is present in every person and is a guide for him.

The problem of the text can be indicated as follows. Conscience dictates to each of us those actions, those norms of behavior that allow us all to get along side by side, without infringing living space another, be it a classmate, a classmate at a university, a colleague in a work team. And throughout our lives we measure our actions, good and bad, by our conscience.

Commenting on this problem, let's say the following. We all feel very good about ourselves and believe that we are worthy of the respect of others, that we have rightfully earned it. But at the same time, we are characterized by such traits as selfishness, envy, selfishness. Sometimes we meet other people's failures in life with a secret sense of joy. Then our conscience, that is, the sense of truth, is silent in us. In this case, we are close to a dishonest act, which can have the most destructive consequences. But everyone must have the courage to say to themselves: “Yes, I did not act according to my conscience, and I should be ashamed. What happened cannot be returned, but I will try to correct my mistake, to atone for my guilt before the person whose trust I did not justify.”

The author's position is expressed as follows. In people differently destinies unfold, everyone is looking for a place in the sun, and this is natural. But there is a certain line that cannot be crossed under any circumstances without damaging yourself or sullying your conscience. This is the trait that separates honor from dishonor, the desire to fulfill a given promise from false assurances, hard work and determination from “fluttering” from place to place in search of easy bread. And the basis of everything good that is in a person is his conscience, that is, the ability to critically, impartially evaluate himself, his positions and decide what he needs in this life. Success and career (often at any cost) or the opportunity to be called a man of honor and, by and large, sleep peacefully because of your unperturbed conscience.

I agree with the author’s position and confirm its correctness with the first argument. If we turn to the history of our country, we will see that its transformation from an agricultural country, with conservative forms of life, into a major industrial power became possible thanks to the selfless work of our compatriots who built industrial facilities, explored space, and raised virgin soil. These people were guided by conscience and a sense of duty, which was embodied in the words: “If not me, then who?”

The second example confirming the correctness of the author’s position comes from L. Tolstoy’s novel “War and Peace.” Prince Andrei Bolkonsky, at the time of his search for success in life, voluntarily goes to war, leaving his pregnant wife in a helpless state under the tutelage of his father, a man with a difficult character. The death of Princess Lisa is a consequence of tragic circumstances, including the selfish behavior of her husband. Prince Andrei, during his wife’s funeral, understands the depth of his guilt, and this feeling will haunt him for the rest of his life.

We offer an essay on the topic “Conscience”. This question requires serious reflection, which should be based on literary sources.

Where to begin

People always wonder what conscience is. The essay-reasoning should include those works of domestic literature, the authors of which paid attention to this issue Special attention. This topic may be offered in the Russian language exam. As arguments, an essay on the topic “Conscience” involves the use of quotes from books.

Essay option

What are honor and conscience? I want to devote my essay specifically to this issue, since I consider it especially relevant these days. Not all modern teenagers understand what this concept means. Conscience, in my opinion, is a quality that involves understanding the actions that a person commits. Everyone has this quality, but not everyone realizes its importance. Some people's conscience prevents them from sleeping peacefully at night. After they commit bad deeds, they become uncomfortable, they cannot relax, and they try to correct the current situation.

Often it is conscience that forces a teenager to change his own behavior and does not allow him to even think about bad intentions. Conscience is a bright and pure feeling located in the very depths of our soul. It would seem that if everyone has such a feeling, why then are people capable of doing bad things? Perhaps they are simply not trying to listen to their conscience?

A person cannot get rid of conscience at will; therefore, he is not able to exist without conscience. This is morality, justice, kindness, decency, the ability to listen to yourself, to choose the right path in your life.

It is important to listen to your inner self in order to live in harmony with your soul. Conscience and honor have recently become empty words. In today's world, many people do not even think about how their actions will affect other people. These words are heard only in pathetic speeches during election campaigns and are forgotten when it comes to the fate of ordinary people.

In his works, Alexander Pushkin talked about conscience, honor, and decency. He associated these terms with morality and human dignity. The amazing mental anguish of the protagonist of F. Dostoevsky’s novel “Crime and Punishment” is a clear example of how conscience can change a person in better side. I would like to complete my essay on the topic “Conscience” with the example of Rodion Raskolnikov.

Having killed the disgusting, malicious old woman, the young man felt terrible pangs of conscience. They indicate that Rodion has a pure and bright soul. If it were not for the difficult life circumstances in which he found himself at the time of committing this serious crime, Rodion would never have committed such an atrocity.

Philosophical meaning

The given essay on the topic “Conscience” is based on the novel by F. Dostoevsky, but in Russian literature there are many other works in which one can find discussions about conscience, duty, honesty, and decency. For example, when writing final essays, high school students often choose L. N. Tolstoy’s novel “War and Peace” as weighty arguments to substantiate their position.

Conclusion

Conscience is an internal assessment, awareness of the morality of actions taken, responsibility for one’s actions. The beauty of a person is not only in his appearance, but also in the internal harmony of feelings and thoughts. Honor implies respect for yourself, your family and friends. If a person does not notice the people around him and tries to satisfy only his own needs, it is difficult to call him an honest, decent, conscientious person.