oh.
"You confuse everything...You've got it all mixed up!" He was really very annoyed. He tossed his golden curls in the wind. "I know a planet inhabited by a red-faced gentleman. He's never smelled a flower. He's never looked at a star. He's never loved anyone. He's never done anything except add up numbers. And all day long he says over and over, just like you, 'I'm a serious man! I'm a serious man!' And that puffs him up with pride. But he's not a man at all -- he's a mushroom!"
"He's a what?"
"A mushroom!" The little prince was now quite pale with rage. "For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he's doing -- that isn't important?" His face turned red now, and he went on. "If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important?"
He couldn't say another word. All of a sudden he burst out sobbing. Night had fallen. I dropped my tools. What did I care about my hammer, about my bolt, about thirst and death? There was, on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, "The flower you love is not in danger...I'll draw you a muzzle for your sheep...I'll draw you a fence for your flower...I..." I didn't know what to say. How clumsy I felt! I didn't know how to reach him, where to find him... It's so mysterious, the land of tears.
(The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 20-21)
I read this book in about an hour this afternoon, and it made my heart hurt with its beauty.
My own little prince turned one yesterday. His party included balloons and cake and a silly hat with a felt candle atop it. Here he is enjoying the foam chair I bought for him.
♥
"He's a what?"
"A mushroom!" The little prince was now quite pale with rage. "For millions of years flowers have been producing thorns. For millions of years sheep have been eating them all the same. And it's not serious, trying to understand why flowers go to such trouble to produce thorns that are good for nothing? It's not important, the war between the sheep and the flowers? It's no more serious and more important than the numbers that fat red gentleman is adding up? Suppose I happen to know a unique flower, one that exists nowhere in the world except on my planet, one that a little sheep can wipe out in a single bite one morning, just like that, without even realizing what he's doing -- that isn't important?" His face turned red now, and he went on. "If someone loves a flower of which just one example exists among all the millions and millions of stars, that's enough to make him happy when he looks at the stars. He tells himself, 'My flower's up there somewhere...' But if the sheep eats the flower, then for him it's as if, suddenly, all the stars went out. And that isn't important?"
He couldn't say another word. All of a sudden he burst out sobbing. Night had fallen. I dropped my tools. What did I care about my hammer, about my bolt, about thirst and death? There was, on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, "The flower you love is not in danger...I'll draw you a muzzle for your sheep...I'll draw you a fence for your flower...I..." I didn't know what to say. How clumsy I felt! I didn't know how to reach him, where to find him... It's so mysterious, the land of tears.
(The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. 20-21)
I read this book in about an hour this afternoon, and it made my heart hurt with its beauty.
My own little prince turned one yesterday. His party included balloons and cake and a silly hat with a felt candle atop it. Here he is enjoying the foam chair I bought for him.
♥