Best 589 quotes in «innocence quotes» category

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    Capture your youth, while you can.

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    Children are the most reasonable about discipline. When they tell you not to do something, it's always because they know why.

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    Children are prophets of nature.

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    Chronologically she is twelve, but emotionally she is older, and intellectually older still.

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    Clues like these turn out to have been present throughout my childhood, invisible to me, and only by drawing links between my memories and what I read could I begin work on a modest form of restitution, inadequate reparations for my unforgivable innocence in those days.

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    COME HOME, TENAR! COME HOME!” In the deep valley, in the twilight, the apple trees were on the eve of blossoming; here and there among the shadowed boughs one flower had opened early, rose and white, like a faint star. Down the orchard aisles, in the thick, new, wet grass, the little girl ran for the joy of running; hearing the call she did not come at once, but made a long circle before she turned her face toward home. The mother waiting in the doorway of the hut, with the firelight behind her, watched the tiny figure running and bobbing like a bit of thistledown blown over the darkening grass beneath the trees.

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    Compassion is the Gateway to Moral Innocence and Avarice’s Defeat

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    Consciousness of innocence is an excellent anchor, no doubt. But what good is an anchor after the ship has sunk?

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    Cosette, by learning that she was beautiful, lost the grace of not knowing it; an exquisite grace, for beauty heightened by artlessness is ineffable, and nothing is so adorable as dazzling innocence, going on her way, and holding in her hand, all unconsciousness, the key of a paradise.

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    Earlier that morning, Escoffier ad brought up a large bucket of white rose petals, white violets and vanilla orchids that he'd been thinking of creating a dish with. The pâtissier had crystalized some of the flowers, and left him a plate of meringue shells, a handful of vanilla beans and fresh cream. He wanted to create a new dish for Sarah, a sweet, something surprising, something to engage her. She'd been playing Joan of Arc, the virgin saint, a seventeen-year-old girl. It was a role she made famous, difficult at any age, but for a woman in her mid-forties, it was nearly impossible. Escoffier tossed a handful of white rose petals into Rosa's bathwater. The white skin. The white roses. 'The essence of Saint Joan is in shades of white, like shades of innocence.' 'Spun sugar,' he thought. 'Vanilla cream, of course.

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    During these first days, when, in the disarray of mind and senses which was the consequence of the iniquitous sentence passed on me, I had resolved to kill myself, my dear wife, with her undaunted devotion and courage, made me realize that it is because I am innocent that I have not the right to abandon her or wilfully to desert my post.

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    Cruel people are not only people who kill innocent people with guns. Individuals who steal from government coffers to enrich themselves at the expense of the poor are grossly cruel.

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    Dalgliesh was too experienced to assume that fear implied guilt; it was often the most innocent who were the most terrified.

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    Despite its dark veins, the transparency of dragonfly’s wings assures me of a pure, innocent world

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    Did he who made the lamb make thee?

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    Don't care what people say Just follow your own way Don't give up and use the chance To return to innocence. That's not the beginning of the end That's the return to yourself The return to innocence.

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    Don't tell me there's no place for innocent hearts in this world. Don't tell me I need to accept what I don't believe in. I respect it. Don't confuse my values for my stubbornness, although I am stubborn. Don't confuse my positive attitude for being naive. Allow me to wrap my heart around you for a moment. Listen to this. Innocent hearts may not belong anywhere in this world but they are big enough for any heart in this world. Innocent hearts belong in innocent hearts. Innocent hearts belong in the hearts of those who genuinely want happiness.

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    DOSTIE: Let's be honest here. People? Sometimes they suck. But kids, well, they're like a new snowfall, you know?

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    Do you know where you were on Thursday evening at about eight o'clock last week, and who you were with, and what you were doing? Are you absolutely certain beyond any shadow of a doubt? Would you bet your life on it? If there is any possibility—no matter how slim or remote—that you could possibly be mistaken about such a thing, you are the kind of person who should never agree to talk to the police under just about any circumstances for as long as you live. And that includes practically everybody.

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    En me disant ces mots, j’ai compris soudain combien cela sonnait comme un danger, et que, être innocent au milieu des coupables, c’était en somme la même chose que d’être coupable au milieu des innocents.

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    Even if I could live forever,” she said to the baby, “I still don’t know which way I would teach you. I was once so free and innocent. I too laughed for no reason." “But later I threw away my foolish innocence to protect myself. And then I taught my daughter, your mother, to shed her innocence so she would not be hurt as well.

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    Esteem for the army - never in this country regarded, in the continental manner, as a popular expression of the national will - implies a kind of innocence.

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    For eventually one gets over reality’s affront to one’s innocence. One grows accustomed to the melancholy fact that we all sell ourselves at one time or another, that whoring is the dirty little secret of our success as human beings.

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    Every mother should endeavor to be a true artist. I do not mean by this that every woman should be a painter, sculptor, musician, poet, or writer, but the artist who will write on the table of childish innocence thoughts she will not blush to see read in the light of eternity and printed amid the archives of heaven, that the young may learn to wear them as amulets around their hearts and throw them as bulwarks around their lives, and that in the hour of temptation and trial the voices from home may linger around their paths as angels of guidance, around their steps, and be incentives to deeds of high and holy worth.

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    Eyes speak a lot of things. I have always been a fan of looking into the eyes of women and men with whom I have conversations. Eyes reveal the unsaid things. The innocence, the flirtations, and the naughtiness all emanate from the eyes...

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    Fag Bush Betty leaned against the sink and the supports whined under her weight, but she leaned anyway and picked stuff out of her teeth, using the mirror as a reference. She stopped after a few crevices and looked at herself. I’d seen a ton of women give themselves that look to themselves in the mirror before. Those eyes were searching for the answer. The way her eyebrows made her forehead wrinkle up, and her chapped lips and skin that was loose on parts of body gave her a very gaunt texture and appearance. I didn’t need a change of light or a particular aimed luminescence to see the extreme parts of her. I could see her spine, and every bone in it. She turned the faucet on and ran water into her hands, splashing it onto her face and letting the beads run down her cheeks, over the edge of her chin and down beside the veins in her neck. “I do that sometimes too,” I said. She turned her head with her back still facing me. “That, right there, stand above the sink and using the water like that,” I said, “never helps though, but it’s funny how it makes your eyes burn. I’ll take a shower sometimes and get real clean. I’ll wash everything. Later that night I’ll have a freak out and walk over to the sink, same as you, naked as hell. I’ll splash water on my face but still when it gets in my eyes it burns. Like there’s some dirt or sweat that I missed while in the shower. It always happens that way. I can’t seem to get everything, and my eyes just… burn. Sometimes the sweat really makes them sting. And there’s nothing you can really do about it, ya have to let it burn until it washes out.

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    Everything seemed so Okay – Innocent, Innocuous, Harmless, Silly Mischief – Typical Restless Young Adult…

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    For children, childhood is timeless. It is always the present. Everything is in the present tense. Of course, they have memories. Of course, time shifts a little for them and Christmas comes round in the end. But they don’t feel it. Today is what they feel, and when they say ‘When I grow up,’ there is always an edge of disbelief—how could they ever be other than what they are?

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    For innocence lost The same is the cost The ride of your life But you can never get off

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    For Mercy has a human heart; Pity, a human face; And Love, the human form divine: And Peace the human dress. Songs of Innocence Cruelty has a human heart And jealousy a human face, Terror the human form divine, And secrecy the human dress. The human dress is forged iron, The human form a fiery forge, The human face a furnace seal'd, The human heart its hungry gorge. Songs of Experience - This poem was discovered posthumously.

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    For such a worldly, surly bastard, Bas had always been incredibly innocent. Always seen the best in people.

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    Good friends will allow you to be as innocent and free as a child when in private, and as wise and mature as an adult when in public.

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    Głupiec z sercem i bez rozumu jest tak samo nieszczęśliwy, jak głupiec z rozumem i bez serca.

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    Grow in a way without losing much of our inner childlike deep senses embracing truthful, pure, simple relief of appreciation and gratitude.

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    Have you taught her to kill, Priest? Can you teach her such a thing? She's so wise in her innocence, so innocent in her wisdom.

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    Have you ever heard a five-year-old recite the Pledge of Allegiance, Arthur? It's creepy as hell. Their enunciation is perfect, but they have no idea what kind of promise they're making, of what's being called for. No one tells you until later that breaking your words amounts to treason. No one tells you until later that you can't take it back. I was having my own treasonous thoughts as I drove. They were half formed, but went a little like this: asking something like that from a person ought not to be allowed.

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    He asked her, 'Why do you feel sorry for me, Old Woman?' The Old Woman stood beside him and looked out the window at the Garden, so beautiful, flowering and everywhere illuminated by the rays of the setting sun, and said, 'I feel sorry for you, dear Youth, because I know where you are gazing and what you are waiting for. I feel sorry for you and your mother.' Perhaps because of these words, or perhaps because of something else, there was a change in the Youth's mood. The Garden, flowering behind the high fence below his window, and exuding a wonderful fragrance, suddenly seemed somehow strange to him; and an ominous sensation, a sudden fear, gripped his heart with a violent palpitation, like heady and languid fragrances rising from brilliant flowers. 'What is happening?' he wondered in confusion. ("The Poison Garden")

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    He can feel them, reaching out for the child, groping their way to its purity…

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    ...he looked as if nothing hard in the world had touched him...

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    He himself, he realized, had always been most abominably frightened, even at the height of his divine power, a frail god upon a rickety throne, afraid of opening letters, of making decisions, afraid of the instinctive knowledge in the eyes of mules, of the innocent eyes of good men, of the elastic nature of the passions, even of the devotion he had received from some men, and one woman, and dogs.

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    Her face lit up; illuminated by the enlightenment of recognition and the innocence of surprise.

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    Her purity of spirit would never be in doubt, though she moved through a blemished world.

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    Hester, meanwhile, says we should live all of life back to front. We should be born old and age younger. Our baptism should be a ritual of our funeral. We should die as infants, content in our mothers' arms, having lost all our learning and all sense of disappointment. If only we could die, she says, not knowing we'd ever grieved.

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    He was an American character, one typical of men of his generation, men who embraced the notion of freedom and individualism and the open road without always knowing its price, and whose enthusiasms could as easily lead to the cowardice of McCarthyism as to the heroics of World War II. Men who were both dangerous and promising precisely because of their fundamental innocence; men prone, in the end, to disappointment.

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    He was goin' on four and he used to eat fireflies. I don't know. I think he thought they'd make him glow.

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    His resiliency was not the resiliency of the dumb but of a lamb who can remember hurt but cannot sustain the anger or the bitterness that brittles the heart.

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    Hello," Life says, "Remember me? We started out together here When you were just a bundle Of innocent amazement. Remember how you saw the world With nothing but wonder? We were such rowdy playmates then. We painted on the sky with clouds And made magic out of Clothespins and peanut butter. Remember, can you, how I became stained and heavy With trouble? Not safe now. Lots of no. They dressed me in painful clothes And made you wear them, too. You don't recognize me, do you But I've never abandoned you Or lost my wild, happy desire To show you Play with you Kiss you Hide and seek down twisty paths And always discover more. Want to run away with me again? Shall we elope without ever leaving Because that's possible, you know. I've never been anywhere but here Waiting for you To remember.

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    His games have a deeper meaning and fascination that adults can no longer fathom and require nothing more than three pebbles, or a piece of wood with a dandelion helmet, perhaps; but above all they require only the pure, strong, passionate, chaste, still-untroubled fantasy of those happy years when life still hesitates to touch us, when neither duty nor guilt dares lay a hand upon us, when we are allowed to see, hear, laugh, wonder, and dream without the world's demanding anything in return, when the impatience of those whom we want so much to love has not yet begun to torment us for evidence, some early token, that we will diligently fulfill our duties. Ah, it will not be long, and all that will rain down upon us in overwhelming, raw power, will assault us, stretch us, cramp us, drill us, corrupt us.

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    His own naivety taunted him like a flicker of madness.

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    His words were like Satin on her Skin. She just picked the lies she liked the best.