You know...my flower...I'm responsible for her. And she's so weak! And so naive. She has four ridiculous thorns to defend her against the world.

You will have five hundred million little bells, and I shall have five hundred million springs of fresh water.

"It's a question of discipline," the little prince told me later on. "When you've finished washing and dressing each morning, you must tend your planet."

Why are you drinking? demanded the little prince. "So that I may forget," replied the tippler. "Forget what?" inquired the little prince, who was already sorry for him. "Forget that I am ashamed," the tippler confessed, hanging his head. "Ashamed of what?" insisted the little prince, who wanted to help him. "Ashamed of drinking!

How could drops of water know themselves to be a river? Yet the river flows on.

Demagoguery enters at the moment when, for want of a common denominator, the principle of equality degenerates into the principle of identity.

I shall never again admire a merely brave man.