Innocence (n.) consists in stretching joyously.
Innocence (n.) irritates the Rebel in so far as it implies being duped.
Innocence (n.) is what must justify itself on the day crime puts on its clothes.
Innocence (n.) requires sand and stones, and man has lost the knack of dwelling among them.
Innocence (n.) is the idea one lives with when young — that is to say, no idea at all.
Innocence (n.) is the one thing the dying child certainly had — and the priest knows it as well as the doctor.
Innocence (n.) for Hegel belongs solely to inactivity — to the being of a stone, and not even to that of a child.
Innocence (n.) for Trotsky and Tito was provisional and depended largely on geography — on distance from the arm of secular power.
Innocence (n.) in its holy form belongs to those who forgive themselves — and we have lost track of it, like the light and the mornings.
Innocence (n.) once it vanishes even from the victim's own mind leaves power the definitive ruler of a world in despair, where only the stones are innocent.
Innocence (n.) of the irreparable kind is all the absurd man feels when asked to admit his guilt — and it allows him everything.
Innocence (n.) cannot be proclaimed by one man alone — self-knowledge prevents him — but he can declare that everyone is innocent, and then God is the criminal.
Innocence (n.) grounds relations — without it there are no human relations and no reason — only naked force, master and slave waiting for reason one day to prevail.
Innocence (n.) must not be allowed to settle on decent people: if pimps and thieves were always sentenced, everyone else would think himself constantly innocent.
Innocence (n.) came to me as an idea from evenings like the one when a tall girl danced in a jasmine garland, leaving behind a scent of flowers and flesh.
Innocence (n.) is what each of us, an exceptional case, insists on at all costs, even if he must accuse the whole human race and heaven itself.
Innocence (n.) for the revolution of virtue is a flash of lightning that brings justice: a revolution is not a trial but a clap of thunder for the wicked.
Innocence (n.) is the idea that comes most naturally to man — like the little Frenchman at Buchenwald insisting on lodging a complaint because his case was exceptional: he was innocent.