Antoine de Saint-Exupery Quotes
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Perfection is attained, not when no more can be added, but when no more can be removed.
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Perfection is not when there is no more to add, but no more to take away.
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But if you come at just any time, I shall never know at what hour my heart is to be ready to greet you.
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I know but one freedom, and that is the freedom of the mind.
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To forget a friend is sad. Not every one has had a friend. And if I forget him, I may become like the grown−ups who are no longer interested in anything but figures.
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One cannot build life from refrigerators, politics, credit statements and crossword puzzles. That is impossible. Nor can one exist for any length of time without poetry, without color, without love.
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I have always loved the desert. One sits down on a desert sand dune, sees nothing, hears nothing. Yet through the silence something throbs, and gleams.
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One can be a brother only in something. Where there is no tie that binds men, men are not united but merely lined up.
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If it is true that wars are won by believers, it is also true that peace treaties are sometimes signed by businessmen.
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The airplane has unveiled for us the true face of the earth.
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Nothing can match the treasure of common memories, of trials endured together, of quarrels and reconciliations and generous emotions. It is idle, having planted an acorn in the morning, to expect that afternoon to sit in the shade of the oak.
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There is no growth except in the fulfillment of obligations.
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Love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking outward together in the same direction.
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Ephemeral" It means 'which is in danger of speedy disappearance.
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You'll be bothered from time to time by storms, fog, snow. When you are, think of those who went through it before you, and say to yourself, 'What they could do, I can do.'
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In every crowd are certain persons who seem just like the rest, yet they bear amazing messages.
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I don't understand these people anymore, that travel the commuter-trains to their dormitory towns. These people that call themselves human, but, by a pressure they do not feel, are forced to do their work like ants. With what do they fill their time when they are free of work on their silly little Sundays? I am very fortunate in my profession. I feel like a farmer, with the airstrips as my fields. Those that have once tasted this kind of fare will not forget it ever. Not so, my friends?
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The job has its grandeurs, yes. There is the exultation of arriving safely after a storm, the joy of gliding down out of the darkness of night or tempest toward a sun-drenched Alicante or Santiago; there is the swelling sense of returning to repossess one's place in life, in the miraculous garden of earth, where are trees and women and, down by the harbor, friendly little bars. When he has throttled his engine and is banking into the airport, leaving the somber cloud masses behind, what pilot does not break into song?
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What was my body to me? A kind of flunkey in my service. Let but my anger wax hot, my love grow exalted, my hatred collect in me, and that boasted solidarity between me and my body was gone.
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It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.
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A man's age represents a fine cargo of experiences and memories.
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Vain is the hope of finding pleasure in that which one has hitherto disdained; as when the warrior hopes to find pleasure in the joys of the sedentaries.
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The tree is a slow, enduring force straining to win the sky.
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In those days, I didn't understand anything. I should have judged her according to her actions, not her words. She perfumed my planet and lit up my life. I should never have run away! I ought to have realized the tenderness underlying her silly pretensions. Flowers are so contadictory! But I was too young to know how to love her.