Quotes About Innocence

I said I had a three-year-old with broken fingers, and you said, 'Maybe he owed somebody money.'" "Yes

La plus grande chute est celle qu'on fait du haut de l'innocence.

Ich kniete nieder, bekreuzte mich, und ich hatte einen Augenblick das Gefühl, ein Heuchler zu sein, bis mir einfiel, daß Gott unschuldig war und daß es keine Heuchelei war, vor ihm niederzuknien. S.47

Seni ÅŸu pencerenin önünde ilk gördüÄŸüm an, s?rt?n?, enseni, eÄŸilmiÅŸ genç vücudunu, sanki bin ya??ndaym??s?n gibi eÄŸilmiÅŸ vücudunu gördüÄŸüm an, yaln?zca suçsuzlar? öldürdüÄŸümüzü anlam?? oldum... yaln?zca suÅŸsuzlar?...

Child, you are like a flower,So sweet and pure and fair.I look at you, and sadnessTouches me with a prayer.

Childhood is a slum and they love it.

How on earth could he not see it? It stood on the wooden floor behind him, in the corner just inside the door, where the light from the hallway poorly fell: an old-fashioned alarm clock with three blunt stumps for legs and a bell like a Prussian helmet. Its face, a faithful little moon, was turned up to her, its hands were spread to plead innocence, and its inner mechanism emitted without ceasing the rapid ribbon of blows called the passing of time.

I know one fortunate little boy whose parents told him the facts of life so satisfactorily, he said in the next breath, "Now tell me how they make peanut butter."),

Childhood is a short season.

children treasure the hope that they might be like the children in books: secretly magical, part of some deeper, mysterious world that makes them something out of the ordinary.

By skilfully training a hunting animal, by closely associating with it, by identifying with it, you might be allowed to experience all your vital, sincere desires, even your most bloodthirsty ones, in total innocence. You could be true to yourself.

The water is very green and has a sweet taste, both boys wrote in their diaries, at different times.

The skirt flared wonderfully, and there was the sweet ribbon bow at the waist. It was a dress to be worn by the sort of girl who'd check that no one was looking, then skip down a quiet street instead of walking, just so the fun of it was hers alone.

A girl grew up in a field. Well, in a house, with her family, but the house was surrounded by stalks of wheat as tall as saplings. The girl's earliest memories are framed in breeze-blown green and gold. Ice and moonlight, sunshine and monsoon, the wheat was there, tickling her, tipping ladybirds and other pets into her lap

She thought it something of a mercy for the gullible to die young, as being too often mistaken breaks the spirit.

They want to see him made accountable for his actions. They want to see him pay for what he did. So do I. In an ideal world, there would be no need for retribution. But in real societies, punishing the guilty is as integral to the function of law as exoneration the innocent and preventing crime.

Deep in our unconscious, we believe that we have hopelessly defiled our original innocence, that we "have made a devil of God's Son."8 This belief is the hidden cause of all our suffering, for it is a constant affirmation that we deserve to suffer, as punishment for what we've done.

Their breakfast and dinner conversations aren't calculated to shield their children from the modern world. They just don't let the modern world rob childhood of its birthright

Blessed be childhood which brings down something of heaven into the midst of our rough earthliness.

I would like to recapture that freshness of vision which is characteristic of extreme youth when all the world is new to it.

You study, you learn, but you guard the original naïveté. It has to be within you, as desire for drink is within the drunkard or love is within the lover.

Tu peux être tranquille. Il reste du limpide en toi. En une seule vie tu n'as pas pu tout souiller.

At the age of eight, I still dreamed of being granted plant status.

People who remember court madness through pain, the pain of the perpetually recurring death of their innocence; people who forget court another kind of madness, the madness of the denial of pain and the hatred of innocence. —James Baldwin