Sojourn into the world of words

The story of the Little Prince

Chapter 1 — The Drawing

Once, when I was six years old, I saw a magnificent picture in a book about the primeval forest. It showed a boa constrictor swallowing a wild animal whole. I could only marvel at the sight and wonder at nature’s power. I pondered long over the adventures of the jungle and then tried to sketch my first drawing — a boa constrictor digesting an elephant. I tried to imagine what it looked like inside and envision the shape of the swallowed beast, but the grown-ups all said my drawing looked like a hat. They could not fathom what I had drawn. They could not perceive the elephant inside the snake. It was a riddle they refused to solve, an enigma they dismissed. They advised me to lay aside my drawings and devote myself to geography, arithmetic, and grammar. So I abandoned a magnificent career as a painter at the age of six. Grown-ups never understand anything by themselves — they are blind to what children can see, and it is tiresome for children to be always explaining things to them.

Chapter 2 — The Pilot and the Little Prince

I lived my life in solitude, without anyone I could really talk to, until I had a breakdown in the desert of the Sahara six years ago. Something was broken in my engine. I had scarcely enough water for eight days. The landscape was barren and arid — a vast emptiness stretching to the horizon. On the first night I went to sleep on the sand, a thousand miles from any human habitation. Then, at sunrise, an extraordinary little voice woke me up. “If you please — draw me a sheep!” I turned around and saw a most extraordinary small person, who stood there examining me with a curious gaze. His eyes were full of wonder. I was filled with astonishment — how had this child come to be here, in this desolate place? This was how I made the acquaintance of the Little Prince. I tried to inquire where he had come from, but he would only repeat his request. His presence was a glimmer of hope in my desperate situation.

Chapter 3 — Asteroid B-612

It took me a long time to learn where the Little Prince came from. He came from a tiny asteroid scarcely any larger than a house — Asteroid B-612. A Turkish astronomer had first observed it through a telescope in 1909. He had presented his discovery at a great international astronomy congress, but nobody believed him because of the way he was dressed. Grown-ups are like that — they scrutinize the exterior and judge by superficial appearances. Fortunately, a Turkish dictator made his people wear European clothes, and the astronomer repeated his demonstration in elegant attire. This time everyone believed him. Such is the nature of grown-ups — they let illusion and disguise shape their beliefs. They overlook what is genuine and care about appearances rather than essence.

Chapter 4 — The Baobabs

Every day I learned something about the Little Prince’s planet, his departure and his journey. On his planet there were terrible seeds — seeds of baobabs. The soil of the planet was infested with them. A baobab is something you will never be rid of if you attend to it too late. It spreads over the entire planet, piercing it with its roots, threatening to ravage everything. If the planet is too small and the baobabs are too many, they split it to pieces. They were a constant menace, a creeping peril. “It is a question of discipline,” the Little Prince told me. “When you’ve finished washing and dressing each morning, you must tend your planet.” It was a daily obligation, a commitment he could never neglect. He asked me to draw a picture of the baobabs as a warning — a vigilant reminder to all children everywhere to endure the tedium of daily care so that danger does not take root.

Chapter 5 — The Rose

One day, a mysterious seed sprouted on his planet. The Little Prince watched over it — it might have been a new kind of baobab. But the bush soon stopped growing and began to prepare a flower. The Little Prince witnessed the birth of a huge bud about to bloom and felt that a miraculous apparition must emerge. And then one morning, exactly at sunrise, she revealed herself in full fragrance. “Ah! I am scarcely awake…” she said, arranging her petals with a gentle caress. She was full of vanity — haughty and rather demanding, with a touch of vainglory that made her seem almost pompous. She coughed and made the Little Prince feel guilty; she told him her four thorns would protect her from tigers, but the Little Prince could discern that she was really quite fragile and vulnerable beneath her proud exterior. He loved her with deep devotion and tenderness, but she had filled him with doubt and bewilderment. He could not tell if her words were sincere or mere performance. He yearned to understand her. “I ought not to have listened to her,” he confided to me later. “One should never listen to flowers. One should simply look at them and breathe their fragrance. I should have judged her by her acts, not by her words. She cast her fragrance and her grace over me. I ought never to have fled!” But he was too young to know how to cherish her.

Chapter 6 — The Departure

He decided to leave. His longing for answers was stronger than his fear. On the morning of his departure, he put his planet in perfect order — a small ceremony of care. He carefully cleaned out his two active volcanoes and the one extinct volcano. He pulled up the last little baobab shoots. He watered the rose for the last time and prepared to shelter her under a glass globe, handling her with a final tenderness. He felt he wanted to weep. “Farewell,” he said to the flower. She made no answer. “Farewell,” he repeated. The flower coughed. But it was not because of a cold. “I have been silly,” she said at last. “Try to be happy.” She was being candid and forthright for the first time. She did not want him to see her crying. She was such a proud flower — too proud to lament openly. And so the Little Prince chose to embark on his great voyage across the celestial darkness, carrying with him only a flock of wild birds and a heavy heart.

Chapter 7 — The King (Asteroid 325)

The first planet the Little Prince visited on his sojourn through the stars was inhabited by a king draped in royal ermine. The king sat upon a great throne and claimed absolute authority and dominion over everything — even the stars and the sunset. He was a sovereign who would command and decree all things. “I order you to yawn,” said the king, “and then to stop yawning.” He decreed that the sunset should happen when conditions were favourable for it. “One must demand from each one the duty that each one can perform,” the king said. His was a reasonable sovereignty, but it was still the sovereignty of loneliness. The Little Prince could not fathom why anyone would want to rule over nothing. He found the king’s pompous manner preposterous.

Chapter 8 — The Conceited Man (Asteroid 326)

The next planet was inhabited by a conceited man. “Ah! A visit from an admirer!” he cried when he saw the Little Prince. To the conceited man, all others were admirers. “Do you really admire me very much?” he asked. He raised his hat in acknowledgement every time the Little Prince clapped. His vainglory knew no bounds. It was absurd and futile. The Little Prince could not conjure up any reason to stay. He left quickly, thinking, “The grown-ups are certainly very odd.” The whole encounter seemed nonsensical.

Chapter 9 — The Drunkard (Asteroid 327)

The next planet was inhabited by a drunkard. The Little Prince found him sitting silently before a collection of empty bottles and full bottles, a poignant and melancholy sight. “What are you doing?” asked the Little Prince. “I am drinking,” said the drunkard. “Why are you drinking?” “So that I may forget.” “Forget what?” “Forget that I am ashamed.” “Ashamed of what?” “Ashamed of drinking!” It was a sorrowful circle of folly — the man could not console himself by any other means. The Little Prince went away, puzzled, feeling an unexpected pang of compassion. “Grown-ups are certainly very, very odd,” he said.

Chapter 10 — The Businessman (Asteroid 328)

The fourth planet belonged to a businessman who was so busy counting that he did not even raise his head when the Little Prince arrived. He counted the stars and believed he possessed them by writing the number on a slip of paper and locking it in a drawer. He wanted to hoard them, to covet every last one. He was acquisitive and insatiable. “I own the stars because nobody else ever thought of owning them,” he said. But to possess a star without ever looking up to admire its twinkle — what was the point? The Little Prince thought this was no more useful than the drunkard’s drinking. Such greed was a burden to no one but the businessman himself.

Chapter 11 — The Lamplighter (Asteroid 329)

The fifth planet was the smallest of all. There was just enough room for a street lamp and a lamplighter. The Little Prince could not understand the purpose of a street lamp on a tiny planet with no people. Yet he thought, “This man would be despised by all the others — by the king, the conceited man, the drunkard, the businessman. Yet he is the only one who does not seem ridiculous to me. Perhaps it is because he is thinking of something besides himself.” The lamplighter was steadfast and faithful to his orders — to light the lamp at evening and put it out in the morning. It had become a habitual ritual, performed with punctual precision — a custom he never broke. But the planet spun faster and faster, and the poor lamplighter could find no rest. He had to endure without complaint. The Little Prince felt a deep kinship with him and wished he could befriend him, for this was the first grown-up who seemed genuine.

Chapter 12 — The Geographer (Asteroid 330)

The sixth planet was ten times larger. It was inhabited by an old geographer — a man who claimed to know the location of all the seas, rivers, towns, mountains, and deserts, yet had never explored or roamed his own planet. He would not wander from his desk. “I have no explorers,” he said. He only recorded what others discovered and would never venture to explore on his own. The geographer told the Little Prince that his flower was ephemeral — a word that means “in danger of speedy disappearance,” something fleeting, not eternal. A cold fear gripped the Little Prince’s heart. He began to mourn what he might already have lost. He felt a sharp sentiment of regret and an intuition that he had made a grave mistake in leaving his rose.

Chapter 13 — Arrival on Earth

The seventh planet was Earth — not just any planet. On it were 111 kings, 7,000 geographers, 900,000 businessmen, 7,500,000 drunkards, 311,000,000 conceited men — altogether about two billion grown-ups. The Little Prince landed in the desert — the Sahara. He saw nobody. He was beginning to feel forlorn and filled with longing for his tiny planet. The landscape was vast and desolate.

Chapter 14 — The Snake

“Good evening,” said a golden-coloured snake. The Little Prince asked where the people were. “It is a little lonely in the desert,” he said. “It is also lonely among men,” the snake replied with an air of dark wisdom. The snake was thin as a finger. “But I am more powerful than the finger of a king,” it said. “I can carry you farther than any ship.” It wound itself 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 whispered. “But you are innocent, and you come from a star…” The snake’s words were wrapped in riddle and enigma. It promised that if the Little Prince should grow too homesick, should yearn too deeply for home, it could help him return — though the method would be perilous.

Chapter 15 — The Flower in the Desert

The Little Prince crossed the arid expanse and encountered a simple flower with three petals — a flower of no account, growing in the barren sand. “Where are the men?” the Little Prince asked politely. “Men? There are six or seven of them. I saw them years ago. But one never knows where to find them. The wind blows them away. They have no roots.” The Little Prince said, “Farewell.” “Farewell,” said the flower, with tender simplicity.

Chapter 16 — The Mountain

He climbed a high mountain. From the summit, he could gaze down upon the whole planet at one glance. But he saw nothing but rocks and peaks and snow — no oasis, no comfort. “What a queer planet!” he said. “It is altogether dry and pointed and harsh.” And he called out, and his voice echoed back to him — “I am all alone… all alone… all alone…” The echo made him feel even more desolate. His solitude was immense.

Chapter 17 — The Garden of Roses

Then the Little Prince came upon a garden full of roses. He was overcome with sorrow and anguish, for his flower had told him she was the only one of her kind in the entire universe. It had been a deception all along — or so he thought. He felt deceived. “She would be very much annoyed if she should see this,” he said. “She would cough most dreadfully and pretend to be dying to avoid being laughed at.” The discovery was intrepid truth crashing upon him. He lay down in the grass and wept. Everything beautiful he had believed now seemed an illusion.

Chapter 18 — The Fox

It was then that the fox appeared. “Come and play with me,” proposed the Little Prince. “I cannot play with you,” the fox said. “I am not tamed.” “What does that mean — tame?” asked the Little Prince, full of curiosity. “It means to establish ties,” said the fox. “It means to domesticate — to create a bond. To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need of you. And you have no need of me. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world — singular and irreplaceable. To you, I shall be unique in all the world. I will distinguish your footsteps from all others.”

“What must I do?” asked the Little Prince. “You must be very patient,” the fox said. “Patience is the key. First you will sit a little distance from me in the grass. I shall look at you out of the corner of my eye, and you will say nothing. Words are the source of misunderstanding. But each day you may sit a little closer…” The fox told him that rituals are important. “What is a ritual?” asked the Little Prince. “It is what makes one day different from other days, one hour from other hours. If you come at four o’clock, then at three I shall begin to be happy — a ceremony of waiting.”

So the Little Prince tamed the fox. And when the hour of farewell came, the fox wept.

The fox taught the Little Prince the great secret of life:

“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”

“You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed. You are responsible for your rose.”

The Little Prince understood at last that his rose was irreplaceable — not because she was different from all the other roses, but because she was his rose. He had watered her and sheltered her. He had listened to her complaints and her boasting with empathy. She was his rose, and he would cherish her forever. To nurture something is to make it part of your heart. The five thousand roses in the garden were beautiful, but they were empty — no one had tamed them. His own rose was more important because of the time and devotion he had given her. He could now discern the difference between what is superficial and what is real.

Chapter 19 — The Railway Switchman

The Little Prince met a railway switchman who sorted travellers, sending them off in trains, thousands at a time. “They are in a great hurry,” the switchman said. “What are they looking for?” asked the Little Prince. “Not even the locomotive engineer knows that,” said the switchman. The travellers rushed about without purpose, never content, always restless, never stopping to soothe their own spirits. Only the children knew what they were looking for — they wasted their time on a rag doll and it became very important to them, and if it was taken away, they wept. “They are lucky,” said the Little Prince, his voice full of sentiment.

Chapter 20 — The Merchant

He met a merchant who sold pills that had been invented to quench thirst. “Why do you sell these?” asked the Little Prince. “Because they save a tremendous amount of time. Experts have calculated that you save fifty-three minutes every week.” “And what do I do with those fifty-three saved minutes?” “Anything you like.” “If I had fifty-three minutes to spend as I liked,” said the Little Prince, “I should wander at my leisure toward an oasis with a well of fresh water.” The merchant’s offer was futile — a fleeting solution to an eternal thirst.

Chapter 21 — The Well

The pilot and the Little Prince were dying of thirst in the desert. “I am thirsty too,” said the Little Prince. “Let us look for a well.” It was absurd to set out on foot across the immensity of the sand, looking for a well at random. But they walked, dauntless and resolute. They roamed beneath the luminous stars — each one a celestial glimmer of hope, a distant twinkle against the eternal dark. The Little Prince said, “The stars are beautiful because of a flower that you cannot see.” Under the vast constellation of the night sky, the pilot felt his steps grow lighter. The desert itself was an enigma — barren yet somehow alive.

They found a well at daybreak. The Little Prince laughed, and the sound of his laughter was like water in the desert — pure delight, full of mirth, jubilant and radiant. “What makes the desert beautiful,” he said, “is that somewhere it hides a well.”

“The stars are beautiful because of a flower you cannot see… The desert is beautiful because somewhere it hides a well… What makes anything beautiful is something that is invisible.”

Chapter 22 — The Farewell

The Little Prince told the pilot that it was the anniversary of his arrival on Earth, and that he had returned to the very spot where he had landed. The pilot was gripped by a terrible anguish. He could perceive what was about to happen. The Little Prince met the snake again. “You have good poison?” the Little Prince asked. “You are sure it will not make me suffer too long?” He was courageous and intrepid, resolute in his decision. There was no hesitation, only a quiet, steadfast calm. He told the pilot:

“In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing when you look up at the sky at night… You — you alone — will have stars that can laugh.”

“And when your sorrow is comforted (time soothes all sorrows), you will be content that you have known me. You will always be my friend.”

He was not afraid. He was gentle as he spoke, and his voice held a tender caress of farewell. He took one step. Then he fell gently, as a tree falls. There was not even any sound, because of the sand. His body was gone the next morning. The Little Prince had returned to his star, his journey homeward complete. He did not need to lament — he had found what he was looking for. He had learned to trust in the invisible ties of the heart.

Epilogue — Look Up at the Stars

The pilot asks us: look up at the sky and ponder. Ask yourself, “Has the sheep eaten the rose or not?” And you will see how everything changes. No grown-up will ever understand that this is a matter of such importance — they remain blind to the simple truths that children can perceive. This is, to the pilot, the loveliest and the saddest landscape in the world — the spot in the desert where the Little Prince first appeared and last departed. It is a poignant, fragile memory — vulnerable to time, yet eternal in the heart.

Look at it carefully so as to be sure to recognise it, in case you travel someday to the African desert. And if you should come upon this spot, please console the pilot. Soothe his grief. Let him know he is not alone in his longing. Send word — be sincere, be forthright — that the Little Prince has come back. For the boy who once chose to depart and embark into the unknown has shown us all that what is essential is invisible to the eye, and that to befriend, to tame, to cherish — this is the enlightenment that makes life worth living. His story is not one of folly but of compassion, not of illusion but of intuition, not of vanity but of devotion. It is the most genuine tale ever told — a singular marvel that will endure forever.

Key Quotes and the Words They Illuminate