The Little Prince

To Lon Werth

I ask the indulgence of the children who may read this book for dedicating it to a grown-up. I have a serious reason: he is the best friend I have in the world. I have another reason: this grown-up understands everything, even books about children. I have a third reason: he lives in France where he is hungry and cold. He needs cheering up.

To Lon Werth

If all these reasons are not enough, I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew. All grown-ups were once children although few of them remember it. And so I correct my dedication: To Lon Werth when he was a little boy

The Businessman, chapter 13

Chapter IOnce when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book, called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. It was a picture of a boa constrictor in the act of swallowing an animal. Here is a copy of the drawing.

Chapter IIn the book it said: "Boa constrictors swallow their prey whole, without chewing it. After that they are not able to move, and they sleep through the six months that they need for digestion."

Chapter II pondered deeply, then, over the adventures of the jungle. And after some work with a colored pencil I succeeded in making my first drawing. My Drawing Number One. It looked like this:

Chapter II showed my masterpiece to the grown-ups, and asked them whether the drawing frightened them. But they answered: "Frighten? Why should any one be frightened by a hat?" My drawing was not a picture of a hat. It was a picture of a boa constrictor digesting an elephant.

Chapter IBut since the grown-ups were not able to understand it, I made another drawing: I drew the inside of the boa constrictor, so that the grown-ups could see it clearly. They always need to have things explained. My Drawing Number Two looked like this:

Chapter IThe grown-ups' response, this time, was to advise me to lay aside my drawings of boa constrictors, whether from the inside or the outside, and devote myself instead to geography, history, arithmetic and grammar. That is why, at the age of six, I gave up what might have been a magnificent career as a painter.

Chapter II had been disheartened by the failure of my Drawing Number One and my Drawing Number Two. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.

Chapter ISo then I chose another profession, and learned to pilot airplanes. I have flown a little over all parts of the world; and it is true that geography has been very useful to me. At a glance I can distinguish China from Arizona. If one gets lost in the night, such knowledge is valuable.

Chapter IIn the course of this life I have had a great many encounters with a great many people who have been concerned with matters of consequence. I have lived a great deal among grown-ups. I have seen them intimately, close at hand. And that hasn't much improved my opinion of them.

Chapter IWhenever I met one of them who seemed to me at all clear-sighted, I tried the experiment of showing him my Drawing Number One, which I have always kept. I would try to find out, so, if this was a person of true understanding. But, whoever it was, he, or she, would always say: "That is a hat."

Chapter IThen I would never talk to that person about boa constrictors, or primeval forests, or stars. I would bring myself down to his level. I would talk to him about bridge, and golf, and politics, and neckties. And the grown-up would be greatly pleased to have met such a sensible man.

Chapter IISo I lived my life alone, without anyone that I could really talk to, until I had an accident with my plane in the Desert of Sahara, six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. And as I had with me neither a mechanic nor any passengers, I set myself to attempt the difficult repairs all alone. It was a question of life or death for me: I had scarcely enough drinking water to last a week.

Chapter IIThe first night, then, I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. I was more isolated than a shipwrecked sailor on a raft in the middle of the ocean. Thus you can imagine my amazement, at sunrise, when I was awakened by an odd little voice. It said:"If you please--draw me a sheep!""What!""Draw me a sheep!"

Chapter III jumped to my feet, completely thunderstruck. I blinked my eyes hard. I looked carefully all around me. And I saw a most extraordinary small person, who stood there examining me with great seriousness.

Chapter IIHere you may see the best portrait that, later, I was able to make of him. But my drawing is certainly very much less charming than its model

The Little Prince, drawn by Saint Exupry himself, chapter II

Chapter IIThat, however, is not my fault. The grown-ups discouraged me in my painter's career when I was six years old, and I never learned to draw anything, except boas from the outside and boas from the inside.

Chapter IINow I stared at this sudden apparition with my eyes fairly starting out of my head in astonishment. Remember, I had crashed in the desert a thousand miles from any inhabited region. And yet my little man seemed neither to be straying uncertainly among the sands, nor to be fainting from fatigue or hunger or thirst or fear. Nothing about him gave any suggestion of a child lost in the middle of the desert, a thousand miles from any human habitation.

Chapter IIWhen at last I was able to speak, I said to him:"But--what are you doing here?"And in answer he repeated, very slowly, as if he were speaking of a matter of great consequence:"If you please--draw me a sheep . . ."

Chapter IIWhen a mystery is too overpowering, one dare not disobey. Absurd as it might seem to me, a thousand miles from any human habitation and in danger of death, I took out of my pocket a sheet of paper and my fountain-pen.

Chapter IIBut then I remembered how my studies had been concentrated on geography, history, arithmetic and grammar, and I told the little chap (a little crossly, too) that I did not know how to draw. He answered me:"That doesn't matter. Draw me a sheep . . ."

Chapter IIBut I had never drawn a sheep. So I drew for him one of the two pictures I had drawn so often. It was that of the boa constrictor from the outside. And I was astounded to hear the little fellow greet it with:

Chapter II"No, no, no! I do not want an elephant inside a boa constrictor. A boa constrictor is a very dangerous creature, and an elephant is very cumbersome. Where I live, everything is very small. What I need is a sheep. Draw me a sheep."

Chapter II So then I made a drawing.He looked at it carefully, then he said: "No. This sheep is already very sickly. Make me another."

Chapter IISo I made another drawing. My friend smiled gently and indulgently. "You see yourself," he said, "that this is not a sheep. This is a ram. It has horns."

Chapter IISo then I did my drawing over once more. But it was rejected too, just like the others. "This one is too old. I want a sheep that will live a long time."

Chapter IIBy this time my patience was exhausted, because I was in a hurry to start taking my engine apart. So I tossed off this drawing. And I threw out an explanation with it. "This is only his box. The sheep you asked for is inside.

Chapter III was very surprised to see a light break over the face of my young judge: "That is exactly the way I wanted it! Do you think that this sheep will have to have a great deal of grass?" "Why?" "Because where I live everything is very small..."

Chapter II"There will surely be enough grass for him," I said. "It is a very small sheep that I have given you." He bent his head over the drawing. "Not so small that Look! He has gone to sleep..." And that is how I made the acquaintance of the little prince.

Chapter VIIII soon learned to know this flower better. On the little prince's planet the flowers had always been very simple. They had only one ring of petals; they took up no room at all; they were a trouble to nobody. One morning they would appear in the grass, and by night they would have faded peacefully away. But one day, from a seed blown from no one knew where, a new flower had come up; and the little prince had watched very closely over this small sprout which was not like any other small sprouts on his planet. It might, you see, have been a new kind of baobab.

Chapter VIIIThe shrub soon stopped growing, and began to get ready to produce a flower. The little prince, who was present at the first appearance of a huge bud, felt at once that some sort of miraculous apparition must emerge from it. But the flower was not satisfied to complete the preparations for her beauty in the shelter of her green chamber. She chose her colors with the greatest care. She dressed herself slowly. She adjusted her petals one by one. She did not wish to go out into the world all rumpled, like the field poppies. It was only in the full radiance of her beauty that she wished to appear. Oh, yes! She was a coquettish creature! And her mysterious adornment lasted for days and days.

Chapter VIIIThen one morning, exactly at sunrise, she suddenly showed herself. And, after working with all this painstaking precision, she yawned and said: "Ah! I am scarcely awake. I beg that you will excuse me. My petals are still all disarranged..." But the little prince could not restrain his admiration:

Chapter VIII"Oh! How beautiful you are!" "Am I not?" the flower responded, sweetly. "And I was born at the same moment as the sun..." The little prince could guess easily enough that she was not any too modest but how moving and exciting she was!

Chapter VIII"At night I want you to put me under a glass globe. It is very cold where you live. In the place I came from " But she interrupted herself at that point. She had come in the form of a seed. She could not have known anything of any other worlds.

Chapter VIIIEmbarrassed over having let herself be caught on the verge of such a nave untruth, she coughed two or three times, in order to put the little prince in the wrong. "The screen?" "I was just going to look for it when you spoke to me..."

Chapter VIIIThen she forced her cough a little more so that he should suffer from remorse just the same. So the little prince, in spite of all the good will that was inseparable from his love, had soon come to doubt her. He had taken seriously words which were without importance, and it made him very unhappy.

Chapter VIII"I ought not to have listened to her," he confided to me one day. "One never ought to listen to the flowers. One should simply look at them and breathe their fragrance.

Chapter VIIIMine perfumed all my planet. But I did not know how to take pleasure in all her grace. This tale of claws, which disturbed me so much, should only have filled my heart with tenderness and pity."

Chapter VIII

And he continued his confidences: "The fact is that I did not know how to understand anything! I ought to have judged by deeds and not by words. She cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. I ought never to have run away from her...

Chapter VIII... I ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little stratagems. Flowers are so inconsistent! But I was too young to know how to love her "

Chapter IXI believe that for his escape he took advantage of the migration of a flock of wild birds.

On the morning of his departure he put his planet in perfect order. He carefully cleaned out his active volcanoes. He possessed two active volcanoes; and they were very convenient for heating his breakfast in the morning.

And when he watered the flower for the last time, and prepared to place her under the shelter of her glass globe, he realized that he was very close to tears. "Goodbye," he said to the flower. But she made no answer. "Goodbye," he said again. The flower coughed. But it was not because she had a cold.

"I have been silly," she said to him, at last. "I ask your forgiveness. Try to be happy..." He was surprised by this absence of reproaches. He stood there all bewildered, the glass globe held arrested in mid-air. He did not understand this quiet sweetness.

"Of course I love you," the flower said to him. "It is my fault that you have not known it all the while. That is of no importance. But you you have been just as foolish as I. Try to be happy... Let the glass globe be. I don't want it any more."

Where stories come fromThe Authenticity of Personal ExperienceTransformation From Facts to FictionLiterary Transformations

Antoine de Saint Exupry

Antoine the Saint ExupryAuthor: Antoine de Saint ExupryOriginal title Le Petit PrinceIllustrator:Antoine de Saint ExupryCover artist: Antoine de Saint ExupryPublisher: GallimardPublication date: 1943Published in English:1943Followed by 'Le petit prince retrouv (1997)

Can you tell where is The Little Prince here...? Left to right: Marie-Madeleine, Gabrielle, Francoise, Antoine, Simone

Antoine the Saint Exupry: Tonio Born in the morning of June 29,1900 at 8 Rue de Peyrat in Lyons, France. He was baptized the next day as Antoine Jean-Baptiste Marie Roger de Saint Exupery, to his family he was Tonio

Saint-Exupry [1900 - 1944]

Antoine de Saint-Exupry was a French author, journalist and pilot.The Little Prince was written in 1943, one year before his death. The Little Prince appears to be a simple story for children.Some would say that it is actually a profound and deeply moving tale, written in riddles and laced with philosopy and poetic metaphor.

Saint Exupry The Pilot

Saint Exupry The Pilot

SourcesAntoine de Saint Exupery and "The Little Prince" http://habpro.tripod.com/visionslp/id2.htmlThe Little Prince (in English) http://www.wikilivres.info/wiki/The_Little_Princehttp://www.odaha.com/littleprince.php?f=English