I am beginning to understand," said the little prince. "There is a flower... I think that she has tamed me.

All grown-ups were once children... but only few of them remember it.

You do not explain the tree by telling of the water it has drunk, the minerals it has absorbed, and the sunlight that strengthened it.

Defeat is a thing of weariness, of incoherence, of boredom, and above all futility.

You are beautiful, but you are empty,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you--the rose that belongs to me.

Look at the sky. Ask yourselves: Has the sheep eaten the flower, yes or no? And you will see how everything changes.

If France is to be judged, judge her not by the effects of her defeat but by her readiness to sacrifice herself.