Quotes About Innocence

You get prettier every day, don't you?" Red said, as he spun the stool. No one called Angela's little girl by her real name. No one could spit it out. Angela had found the name in the family Bible. Apparently, it wanted to stay there. "She's cute as a Dixie cup," Willie said from the service window. "Are you my little Dixie cup?" Red asked, giving her nose a tap. Clapping her hands, the child giggled and squealed. And just like that, Aubrette Orianna Belle was christened Dixie.

Oh,to be walking through Leningrad white night after white night, the dawn to dusk all smelting together like platinum ore, Tatiana thought, turning away to the wall, again to the wall, the wall, as ever. Alexander, my nights, my days, my every thought. You will fall away from me in just a while, won't you, and I'll be whole again, and I will go on and feel for someone else, the way everyone does. But my innocence is forever gone.

Alexander, my nights, my days, my every thought. You will fall away from me in just a while, won't you, and I'll be whole again, and I will go on and feel for someone else, the way everybody does. But my innocence is gone forever.

A child can teach an adult three things: to be happy for no reason, to always be busy with something, and to know how to demand with all his might that which he desires.

The more we become able to become a child again, to keep ourselves childlike, the more we can understand that because we love the world and we are open to understanding, to comprehension, that when we kill the child in us, we are no longer.

I believe that the normal human heart is born good. That is, it's born sensitive and feeling, eager to be approved and to approve, hungry for simple happiness and the chance to live. It neither wishes to be killed, nor to kill. If through circumstances, it is overcome by evil, it never becomes entirely evil. There remain in it elements of good, however recessive, which continue to hold the possibility of restoration.

Ya pues, a ver, una risita, le pedía el mocoso hermoso como una esmeralda marina. A ver, un puchero, le decía con esa boca de fresa, conquistándola otra vez con sus niñerías de cachorro.

Pero no, Carlos no podía mentirle, no podía haberla engañado con esos ojos tan dulces. Y si lo había hecho, mejor no saber, mejor hacerse la lesa, la más tonta de las locas, la más bruta, que solo sabía bordar y cantar canciones viejas.

princess play feels like proof of our daughters' innocence, protection against the sexualization it may actually be courting. It reassures us that, despite the pressure to be precocious, little girls are still -- and ever will be -- little girls. And that knowledge restores our faith not only in wonder but, quite possibly, in goodness itself.

Forever, reading has been central, the necessary fix, the support system. Her life has been informed by reading. She has read not just for distraction, sustenance, to pass the time, but she has read in a state of primal innocence, reading for enlightenment, for instruction, even. ... She is as much a product of what she has read as of the way in which she has lived; she is like millions of others built by books, for whom books are an essential foodstuff, who could starve without.

Children are infinitely credulous. My Lisa was a dull child, but even so she came up with things that pleased and startled me. 'Are there dragons?' she asked. I said that there were not. 'Have there ever been?' I said all the evidence was to the contrary. 'But if there is a word dragon,' she said, 'then once there must have been dragons.

Why should we remain innocent of what lurks in the shadows? How can we live in the world if we don't understand how dark and brutal it can be?

Every human being on earth. It's difficult to understand. That people can hurt each other. When they have been so small and helpless. Every single rapist and football bully and suicide bomber and pedophile has been so small and depended. Of milk and love.

Know what it is to be a child? It is to be something very different from the man of today. It is to have a spirit yet streaming from the waters of Baptism; it is to believe in belief; it is to be so little that elves can reach to whisper in your ear; it is to turn pumpkins into coaches, and mice into horses, lowness into loftiness, and nothing into everything, for each child had its fairy godmother in its soul.

There he is, three days after his fifth birthday, standing barefoot upon wet summer grass. He is staring at the house where he lives: the great good Irish place of whitewashed walls, long and low, with a dark slate roof glistening in the morning drizzle. Standing there, he knows it will turn pale blue when the sun appears to work its magic.

Innocence is the currency. Survival is bought with innocence. You are born with an abundance of innocence and no knowledge of how to survive: you spend your life trading one for the other. But it only works one way. You can't buy back your innocence.

So we were back in the Children's Pavilion, and there was again the familiar scene: the mothers with their nearly dead, the false face of mercy, the Slaughter of the Innocents.

One of them is your ex-wife, and we know she didn't do it.

Can I know that mine was a foolish, innocent world, a world of delusion and feeling and ridiculous dreams - a world of music - and still love it? Endlessly, effortlessly.

There's a widespread notion that children are open, that the truth about their inner selves just seeps out of them. That's all wrong. No one is more covert than a child, and no one has greater cause to be that way. It's a response to a world that is always using a tin-opener on them to see what they have inside, just in case it ought to be replaced with a more useful type of tinned foodstuff.

Die Ansicht, dass Kinder offen sind, dass ihr inneres Wesen sozusagen pur aus ihnen heraussickert, ist weit verbreitet. Das ist falsch. Niemand hält sich bedeckter als ein Kind, niemand muss es so sehr sein. Als Antwort auf eine Welt, die dauernd mit dem Büchsenöffner ankommt, um nachzuschauen, was es in sich hat, ob es nicht vielleicht gegen eine gängigere Konserve eingetauscht werden sollte.

As always when an adult becomes transparent, the child inside him steps forth.

Kinder haben keine Vorurteile, und die Urteile werden ihnen erst gemacht. Nicht von den Dichtern, sondern von denen, die scheinbar erfolgreich die Gegenwart besetzen.

Maybe freedom really is nothing left to lose. You had it once in childhood, when it was okay to climb a tree, to paint a crazy picture and wipe out on your bike, to get hurt. The spirit of risk gradually takes its leave. It follows the wild cries of joy and pain down the wind, through the hedgerow, growing ever fainter. What was that sound? A dog barking far off? That was our life calling to us, the one that was vigorous and undefended and curious.