When one wishes to play the wit , he sometimes wanders a little from the truth. I have not been alto
gether honest in what I have told you about the lamplighters. And I realize that I run the risk of g
iving a false idea of our planet to those who do not know it. Men occupy a very small place upon the
Earth. If the two billion inhabitants who people its surface were all to stand upright and somewhat
crowded together, as they do for some big public assembly , they could easily be put into one publi
c square twenty miles long and twenty miles wide. All humanity could be piled up on a small Pacific
islet .
The grown-ups, to be sure, will not believe you when you tell them that. They imagine that they fill
a great deal of space. They fancy themselves as important as the baobabs. You should advise them, t
hen, to make their own calculations . They adore figures, and that will please them. But do not wast
e your time on this extra task. It is unnecessary. You have, I know, confidence in me.
When the little prince arrived on the Earth, he was very much surprised not to see any people. He wa
s beginning to be afraid he had come to the wrong planet, when a coil of gold, the colour of the moo
nlight, flashed across the sand.
“Good evening,” said the little prince courteously .
“Good evening,” said the snake.
“What planet is this on which I have come down?” asked the little prince.
“This is the Earth; this is Africa,” the snake answered.
“Ah! Then there are no people on the Earth?”
“This is the desert. There are no people in the desert. The Earth is large,” said the snake.
The little prince sat down on a stone, and raised his eyes toward the sky.
“I wonder,” he said, “whether the stars are set alight in heaven so that one day each one of us may
find his own again... Look at my planet. It is right there above us. But how far away it is!”
“It is beautiful,” the snake said. “What has brought you here?”
I have been having some trouble with a flower,” said the little prince.
“Ah!” said the snake.
And they were both silent.
“Where are the men?” the little prince at last took up the conversation again. “It is a little lonel
y in the desert...”
“It is also lonely among men,” the snake said.
The little prince gazed at him for a long time.
“You are a funny animal,” he said at last. “You are no thicker than a finger...”
“But I am more powerful than the finger of a king,” said the snake.
The little prince smiled.
“You are not very powerful. You haven’t even any feet. You cannot even travel...”
“I can carry you farther than any ship could take you,” said the snake.
He twined himself around the little prince’s ankle , like a golden bracelet .
“Whomever I touch, I send back to the earth from whence he came,” the snake spoke again. “But you ar
e innocent and true, and you come from a star...”
The little prince made no reply.
“You move me to pity—you are so weak on this Earth made of granite ,” the snake said. “I can help yo
u, some day, if you grow too homesick for your own planet. I can—”
“Oh! I understand you very well,” said the little prince. “But why do you always speak in riddles ?”
“I solve them all,” said the snake.
And they were both silent.
Chapter 18
The little prince crossed the desert and met with only one flower. It was a flower with three petals
, a flower of no account at all.
“Good morning,” said the little prince.
“Good morning,” said the flower.
“Where are the men?” the little prince asked, politely.
The flower had once seen a caravan passing.
“Men?” she echoed . “I think there are six or seven of them in existence . I saw them, several years
ago. But one never knows where to find them. The wind blows them away. They have no roots, and that
makes their life very difficult.”
“Goodbye,” said the little prince.
“Goodbye,” said the flower.
Chapter 19
After that, the little prince climbed a high mountain. The only mountains he had ever known were the
three volcanoes, which came up to his knees. And he used the extinct volcano as a footstool . “From
a mountain as high as this one,” he said to himself, “I shall be able to see the whole planet at on
e glance, and all the people...”
But he saw nothing, save peaks of rock that were sharpened like needles .
“Good morning,” he said courteously.
“Good morning—Good morning—Good morning,” answered the echo .
“Who are you?” said the little prince.
“Who are you—Who are you—Who are you?” answered the echo.
“Be my friends. I am all alone,” he said.
“I am all alone—all alone—all alone,” answered the echo.
“What a queer planet!” he thought. “It is altogether dry, and altogether pointed , and altogether ha
rsh and forbidding . And the people have no imagination. They repeat whatever one says to them... On
my planet I had a flower; she always was the first to speak...”
Chapter 20
But it happened that after walking for a long time through sand, and rocks, and snow, the little pri
nce at last came upon a road. And all roads lead to the abodes of men.
“Good morning,” he said.
He was standing before a garden, all abloom with roses.
“Good morning,” said the roses.
The little prince gazed at them. They all looked like his flower.
“Who are you?” he demanded, thunderstruck.
“We are roses,” the roses said.
And he was overcome with sadness. His flower had told him that she was the only one of her kind in a
ll the universe. And here were five thousand of them, all alike, in one single garden!
“She would be very much annoyed ,” he said to himself, “if she should see that... she would cough mo
st dreadfully , and she would pretend that she was dying, to avoid being laughed at. And I should be
obliged to pretend that I was nursing her back to life—for if I did not do that, to humble myself a
lso, she would really allow herself to die...”
Then he went on with his reflections : “I thought that I was rich, with a flower that was unique in
all the world; and all I had was a common rose. A common rose, and three volcanoes that come up to m
y knees—and one of them perhaps extinct forever... that doesn’t make me a very great prince...”
And he lay down in the grass and cried.
Chapter 21
It was then that the fox appeared.
“Good morning,” said the fox.
“Good morning,” the little prince responded politely, although when he turned around he saw nothing.
“I am right here,” the voice said, “under the apple tree.”
“Who are you?” asked the little prince, and added, “You are very pretty to look at.”
“I am a fox,” said the fox.
“Come and play with me,” proposed the little prince. “I am so unhappy.”
“I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed .”
“Ah! Please excuse me,” said the little prince.
But, after some thought, he added:
“What does that mean—‘tame’?”
“You do not live here,” said the fox. “What is it that you are looking for?”
“I am looking for men,” said the little prince. “What does that mean—‘tame’?”
“Men,” said the fox. “They have guns, and they hunt. It is very disturbing . They also raise chicken
s. These are their only interests . Are you looking for chickens?”
“No,” said the little prince. “I am looking for friends. What does that mean—‘tame’?”
“It is an act too often neglected,” said the fox. “It means to establish ties.”
“‘To establish ties’?”
“Just that,” said the fox. “To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a h
undred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you, on your part, have no need of
me. To you, I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, t
hen we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique
in all the world...”
“I am beginning to understand,” said the little prince. “There is a flower... I think that she has t
amed me...”
“It is possible,” said the fox. “On the Earth one sees all sorts of things.”
“Oh, but this is not on the Earth!” said the little prince.
The fox seemed perplexed , and very curious.
“On another planet?”
“Yes.”
“Are there hunters on this planet?”
“No.”
“Ah, that is interesting! Are there chickens?”
“No.”
“Nothing is perfect,” sighed the fox.
But he came back to his idea.
“My life is very monotonous ,” the fox said. “I hunt chickens; men hunt me. All the chickens are jus
t alike, and all the men are just alike. And, in consequence, I am a little bored. But if you tame m
e, it will be as if the sun came to shine on my life. I shall know the sound of a step that will be
different from all the others. Other steps send me hurrying back underneath the ground. Yours will c
all me, like music, out of my burrow . And then look: you see the grain-fields down yonder ? I do no
t eat bread. Wheat is of no use to me. The wheat fields have nothing to say to me. And that is sad.
But you have hair that is the colour of gold. Think how wonderful that will be when you have tamed m
e! The grain , which is also golden, will bring me back the thought of you. And I shall love to list
en to the wind in the wheat...”
The fox gazed at the little prince, for a long time.
Please—tame me!” he said.
“I want to, very much,” the little prince replied. “But I have not much time. I have friends to disc
over, and a great many things to understand.”
“One only understands the things that one tames,” said the fox. “Men have no more time to understand
anything. They buy things all ready made at the shops. But there is no shop anywhere where one can
buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more. If you want a friend, tame me...”
“What must I do, to tame you?” asked the little prince.
“You must be very patient,” replied the fox. “First you will sit down at a little distance from me—l
ike that—in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Wo
rds are the source of misunderstandings . But you will sit a little closer to me, every day...”
The next day the little prince came back.
“It would have been better to come back at the same hour,” said the fox. “If, for example, you come
at four o’clock in the afternoon, then at three o’clock I shall begin to be happy. I shall feel happ
ier and happier as the hour advances. At four o’clock, I shall already be worrying and jumping about
. I shall show you how happy I am! But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour
my heart is to be ready to greet you... One must observe the proper rites ...”
“What is a rite?” asked the little prince.
“Those also are actions too often neglected,” said the fox. “They are what make one day different fr
om other days, one hour from other hours. There is a rite, for example, among my hunters. Every Thur
sday they dance with the village girls. So Thursday is a wonderful day for me! I can take a walk as
far as the vineyards . But if the hunters danced at just any time, every day would be like every oth
er day, and I should never have any vacation at all.”
So the little prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of his departure drew near —
“Ah,” said the fox, “I shall cry.”
“It is your own fault,” said the little prince. “I never wished you any sort of harm; but you wanted
me to tame you...”
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“But now you are going to cry!” said the little prince.
“Yes, that is so,” said the fox.
“Then it has done you no good at all!”
“It has done me good,” said the fox, “because of the color of the wheat fields.” And then he added:
“Go and look again at the roses. You will understand now that yours is unique in all the world. Then
come back to say goodbye to me, and I will make you a present of a secret.”
The little prince went away, to look again at the roses.
“You are not at all like my rose,” he said. “As yet you are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you h
ave tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousa
nd other foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world.”
And the roses were very much embarrassed.
“You are beautiful, but you are empty ,” he went on. “One could not die for you. To be sure, an ordi
nary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you—the rose that belongs to me. But in hers
elf alone she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that I h
ave watered; because it is she that I have put under the glass globe; because it is she that I have
sheltered behind the screen; because it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the t
wo or three that we saved to become butterflies); because it is she that I have listened to, when sh
e grumbled , or boasted , or even sometimes when she said nothing. Because she is my rose.”
And he went back to meet the fox.
“Goodbye,” he said.
“Goodbye,” said the fox. “And now here is my secret, a very simple secret: It is only with the heart
that one can see rightly ; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
“What is essential is invisible to the eye,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to
remember.
“It is the time you have wasted for your rose that makes your rose so important.”
“It is the time I have wasted for my rose—” said the little prince, so that he would be sure to reme
mber.
“Men have forgotten this truth,” said the fox. “But you must not forget it. You become responsible ,
forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose...”
“I am responsible for my rose,” the little prince repeated, so that he would be sure to remember.