One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!" And a little later you added: "You know-- one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..." "Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?" But the little prince made no reply.

It is such a secret place, the land of tears.

If I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked, I should walk at my leisure toward a spring of fresh water.

The meaning of things lies not in the things themselves, but in our attitude towards them.

The seed haunted by the sun never fails to find its way between the stones in the ground. And the pure logician, if no sun draws him forth, remains entangled in his logic.

Mad is the man who is forever gritting his teeth against that granite block, complete and changeless, of the past.

No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he knows himself vulnerable; and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him.