Quotes About Innocence

And some young country miss Giving her lad a kiss, Quite certain that the olden times were not so good as this.

Adults, waiting for tomorrow, move in a present behind which is yesterday or the day before yesterday or at most last week: they don't want to think about the rest. Children don't know the meaning of yesterday, or even of tomorrow, everything is this, now: the street is this, the doorway is this, the stairs are this, this is Mamma, this is Papa, this is the day, this the night.

Non riuscivo più a essere innocente, dietro i pensieri c'erano altri pensieri, l'infanzia era finita.

Children don't know the meaning of yesterday, of the day before yesterday, or even of tomorrow, everything is this, now: the street is this, the doorway is this, the stairs are this, this is Mamma, this is Papa, this is the day, this the night. I was small and really my doll knew more than I did.

I've known how to whistle since I was five years old.

Evidently what in the fiction of the story serves in all innocence to reach the heart of the reader becomes an abomination for one who feels the echo of the facts she has really lived.

It wasn't my mother's laugh, the obscene laughter of a woman who knows. In Nella there was something chaste and yet vulgar, it was the laugh of an aging virgin that asailed me and pushed me to laugh, too, but in a forced way. [...] I saw myself growing old, with that laugh of malicious innocence in my breast. I thought: I'll end up laughing like that, too.

It wasn't innocent blood. To my father nothing about Amalia ever seemed innocent. He, so furious, so bitter and yet so eager for pleasure, so irascible and so egotistical, couldn't bear that she had a friendly, at times even joyful, relationship with the world. He recognized in it a trace of betrayal.

Adults, waiting for tomorrow, move in a present behind which is yesterday or the day before yesterday or at most last week: they don't want to think about the rest. Children don't know the meaning of yesterday, of the day before yesterday, or even of tomorrow

L'infanzia è una fabbrica di menzogne che durano all'imperfetto

Eu não conseguia mais ser inocente, por trás dos pensamentos havia outros pensamentos, a infância tinha terminado. Eu me esforçava, mas a infância fugia, as lágrimas que eu sentia o tempo todo nos olhos eram o oposto de uma prova de inocência.

L'infanzia e' una fabbrica di menzogne che durano all'imperfetto: la mia almeno era stata cosi

Children don't know the meaning of yesterday, of the day before yesterday, or even of tomorrow, everything is this, now: the street is this, the doorway is this, the stairs are this, this is Mamma, this is Papa, this is the day, this the night.

you will see . . . Gauguin and Bernard talk now of 'painting like children' – I would rather have that than 'painting like decadents'.

simple people. . . . listen to music with their hearts and enjoy it more than those who are spoiled, jaded, blase.

Adults find pleasure in deceiving a child. They consider it necessary, but they also enjoy it. The children very quickly figure it out and then practice deception themselves.

Only the guilty are guilty. Their children are not.

Svetlana said that when she was in the first grade, kids would torture each other in the playground by asking, "Who do you love more, Comrade Tito or your own mother?

In America, childhood was a time to play and be innocent, to not have to make money or do anything that counted for anything.

It is intellectually and spiritually incoherent to believe in the innocent play of children when you are willing to sacrifice them upon the altar of your ambition, your avarice, your lusts, or your convenience. You cannot suppress the reality of the child without amputating your humanity and searing the wound with bitumen and pitch. The

Most parents are so convinced of their little darling's innocence that, by proxy, in rallying for junior's purity they come to believe in their own innocence—as if duplicating oneself will make a right!

The less you know, the better you sleep.

A mad scientist builds a monster out of body parts. The monster heads into the woods and kills a little girl. Who, then, is most responsible? The mad scientist or the monster?" "The answer to that question is obvious, sir." "It is ?" "Of course, sir - it's neither the scientist nor the monster." "Then who is the most responsible?" "The little girl in the woods." "The little girl in the woods? " "For failing to adequately protect herself, sir.

I was raised with an innocence at odds with the experience of my pragmatic Arab ancestors. To be born in these parts is not only to know loss and rumination, but also to savor the endless pleasures of discord.