My dear,

The innocent do not lose their innocence all at once. They are not tainted deliberately, straightforwardly, but in a round the bush manner, unconsciously. And the beautiful are not despised. They are not beaten or thrashed by the hands of man, but those of days compounded.

The innocent and the beautiful have no enemy but time.

And is there a greater enemy?

Falsely yours,
William Butler Yeats