Art · Books · Memorable words · Memories

happy birthday, mon prince

I found out (thanks to The Writer’s Almanac) that today is Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s birthday. He’s one of my favorite authors and The Little Prince is, bar none, my favorite book. I carry it with me everywhere I go and read it many times each year.

The Little Prince is singlehandedly responsible for my ability to connect with any child, any time. I took the opening words of the book (see below) to heart when I was around 7 or 8, and never forgot them, so I managed to be a grownup that isn’t stuffy. I never wanted to be one of the grownups you had to make excuses about in the opening pages of your book. And I think I managed that. It’s no great accomplishment, but victory lies in small goals being met. You just need to string them together.

From the daily almanc email:

“It’s the birthday of the aviator and author of The Little Prince (1943), Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, (books by this author) born in Lyons, France (1900). Saint-Exupéry wrote it in America, and it is a kind of fable, about a Little Prince who visits earth from his own tiny planet where he keeps a single rose that he loves. In The Little Prince, Saint-Exupéry writes, “Grown-ups never understand anything for themselves, and it is tiresome for children to be always and forever explaining things to them.” Saint-Exupéry insisted on serving in the air force during World War II even when he was too old to fly, and he flew his last mission 1944, when he was reported missing after a reconnaissance flight.”

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