The House, The Stars, The Desert --

And They Heard The Roaring Thunder Of A Third Brilliantly Lighted Express. "are They Pursuing The First Travelers?" Demanded The Little Prince. "they Are Pursuing Nothing At All," Said The Switchman. "they Are Asleep In There, Or If They Are Not Asleep They Are Yawning. Only The Children Are Flattening Their Noses Against The Windowpanes." "only The Children Know What They Are Looking For," Said The Little Prince. "they Waste Their Time Over A Rag Doll And It Becomes Very Important To Them; And If Anybody Takes It Away From Them, They Cry..." "they Are Lucky," The Switchman Said.

The Tree Is More Than First A Seed, Then A Stem, Then A Living Trunk, And Then Dead Timber. The Tree Is A Slow, Enduring Force Straining To Win The Sky.

Intelligence Is Not Creative; Judgment Is Not Creative. If A Sculptor Is Nothing But Skill And Mind, His Hands Will Be Without Genius.

Perfection Is Not When There Is No More To Add, But No More To Take Away.

When One Wishes To Play The Wit, He Sometimes Wander A Little From The Truth.