Quotes About Innocence

She's too young. Too innocent. Too human. For what I'm becoming.

I know why I'm obsessed with her. She's the innocence I've lost. As I was going dark, she was getting nothing but brighter.

There were the cages you could see and those that weren't so easy to spot before you were lured into them with sweet promises and lies until you were stuck like a fly on sticky tape with only your shattered innocence for company.

Lust is absurd. It strikes in the strangest places at the oddest times. She doesn't even realize she's feeling it. She's erected a barricade of propriety and lies between us. I despise the type of woman she is. I loathe her soft pink innocence. My body doesn't concur. I wonder why her?

Turn back time to half-past innocence. But that clock's lying on its side, hour hand spinning wildly, in a dirty Dublin alley near a gold makeup pouch half concealed by trash, and an address carved in stone by a dying woman. Broken.

I despised the world because I used to know who I was, and I used to be good, with no bad in me, or at least that's what I thought and there really is a degree of bliss and charmed innocence in ignorance.

See that blonde down there with the big tits? I was about to get laid." "One, I'm too young to hear that kind of stuff, and two, I don't see you carrying a club to knock her over the head with, so how were you going to accomplish that?

He had the wild, true heart of a child, in the body of a jaded man. Intensely guarded, unless he chose to give it, yet once given, it was given completely. Without thought to his own survival.

I dropped the candies into the children's bags, thinking: You small mortals don't realize the power of your stories.

We keep giggling, happy and nervous, tickled by an incomplete innocence. We both sense that some dark joke is being played on us, even if we can't quite grasp the punch line.

March 1. DEAR BABY: I like the way you turn in half circles on the mattress, like a senile clock.

I was a fairy-minded kid, a comic book kid, and I had a bad habit of looking for augurs and protectors where there were none.

I dropped the candies into the children's bags, thinking: You small mortals don't realize the power of your stories.

Kids were for later, maybe. They could still see the children they had been.

Back then we played actual games. We hid and we sought.

I wanted to cry for the little girls we'd been before the world's glaring spotlight eradicated our childish imaginations.

I'd sat on a bench there with Mabry and Bennett, eating ice cream and making up dramatic stories about the people we'd seen, their hidden lives and dark secrets. Mabry said I gave her nightmares sometimes, that that was the true mark of a storyteller, to make people believe something made-up was real.

Daddy would call you his brave soldier boy, and you would believe it. When they lifted you out of that hiding place and smiled at you so proud, you didn't feel like an eight-year-old at all.

Sexual enlightenment is justified insofar as girls cannot learn too soon how children do not come into the world.

Es gehört viel Demut und Selbstüberwindung dazu, die Größe seines Geistes so zu verhüllen, daß kein Unschuldiger durch sie niedergeschmettert wird.

Childhood is not a state which only applies to the first phase of our lives in the biological sense. Rather it is a basic condition which is always appropriate to a life that is lived aright.

That took the view that every misbehavior, every cruelty perpetuated by one kid on another should be let slide in the name of letting kids be kids? (Let them be kids, really let them, and you will end up with a tribe of bulimic eugenicists with huge amounts of credit card debt.)

People always say to me "What do you think you'd like to be When you grow up?" And I say, "Why, I think I'd like to be the sky Or be a plane or train or mouse Or maybe a haunted house Or something furry, rough and wild... Or maybe I will stay a child.

Boys? Megan's mind was flooded with images of boys. Boys with missing teeth, their faces smeared with red Popsicle goo, their beady little eyes laughing at her as they lured her behind their house to see their new "puppy" and then lassoed her to a tree and hung her upside down. Greasy-haired, chubby-legged, evil little boys. Boys with worms in their pockets who ate gum off the ground and pulled her hair.