Today , 29th of June is the birthday of one of the great philosophers that man kind has experienced , Antoine de Saint Exupery the writer of one of the bibles of my life.. the little prince.. may he rest in peace and may all of us feel/enjoy and understand the amazing mystical lines that he has implemented there so smooth and effortless just like an expert jeweler working on a masterpiece.
Yes,the dialogue with fox is my favorite too, as well as the drunkard , also the desert hiding the well concept, but here I would like to bring up one the most amazing parts which is the first apparition of the flower in his planet.
cheers to him
- Pouya !*
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"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!
"I think it is time for breakfast," she added an instant later. "If you would have the kindness to think of my needs--"
And the little prince, completely abashed, went to look for a sprinkling-can of fresh water. So, he tended the flower.
So, too, she began very quickly to torment him with her vanity--which was, if the truth be known, a little difficult to deal with. One day, for instance, when she was speaking of her four thorns, she said to the little prince:
"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!
"I think it is time for breakfast," she added an instant later. "If you would have the kindness to think of my needs--"
And the little prince, completely abashed, went to look for a sprinkling-can of fresh water. So, he tended the flower.
So, too, she began very quickly to torment him with her vanity--which was, if the truth be known, a little difficult to deal with. One day, for instance, when she was speaking of her four thorns, she said to the little prince:
"Let the tigers come with their claws!"
"There are no tigers on my planet," the little prince objected. "And, anyway, tigers do not eat weeds."
"I am not a weed," the flower replied, sweetly.
"Please excuse me . . ."
"I am not at all afraid of tigers," she went on, "but I have a horror of drafts. I suppose you wouldn't have a screen for me?"
"A horror of drafts--that is bad luck, for a plant," remarked the little prince, and added to himself, "This flower is a very complex creature . . ."
"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. Embarrassed over having let herself be caught on the verge of such a naive 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 . . ."
Then she forced her cough a little more so that he should suffer from remorse just the same.
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- Little prince, Chapter 8
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