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"And if not for the caterpillars and butterflies, who will I talk to? You'll be far away. And as for larger creatures, I'm not afraid. I have my thorns...to protect me."
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"The perception of a child who has not yet learned to protect itself by developing the tunnel vision that keeps out ninety percent of the universe."

"Instead of a criminal or a drug addict, I was looking at a boy - just a boy."

"It is pardonable for children to yell that they believe in fairies, but it is somehow sinister when the piping note shifts from the puerile to the senile."

"No mind seems more peaceful than the mind of a sleeping innocent child because life has not yet planted the seeds of sorrow in that mind!"

"Innocence has a grace which intelligence lacks!"

"You know I'm old in some ways-in others-well, I'm just a little girl. I like sunshine and pretty things and cheerfulness-and I dread responsibility."

"I'd prefer you accuse my son, so he can defend his innocence rather than prolong unnecessary guilt.' (Spoken by Bracke, told by Eric)"
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"But silence continued in the layers of the earth, and this density that I could feel at my shoulders continued harmonious, sustained, unaltered through eternity. I lay there pondering my situation, lost in the desert, and in danger, naked between sky and sand and stars, withdrawn by too much silence from the poles of my life."


"Love is not about staring at each other, but staring off in the same direction."


"Mais, dans la mort d'un homme, un monde inconnu meurt, et je me demandais quelles étaient les images qui sombraient en lui."


"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"And a little later you added:"You know-- one loves the sunet, 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."


"People have forgotten this truth," the fox said. "But you mustn't forget it. You become responsible forever for what you've tamed. You're responsible for your rose."


"I did not know what to say to him. I felt awkward and blundering. I did not know how I could reach him, where I could overtake him and go on hand in hand with him once more."


"Maybe those sailors will write bad poems, but the same men would have kept dull diaries, too. The problem has to do not with the evidence but with the witness. The point is not the adventure but the adventurer. Reality cannot be directly rendered. Reality is a pile of bricks that can assume many forms."
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