Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Antoine de Saint-Exupery
Antoine Marie Jean-Baptiste Roger, comte de Saint-Exupérywas a French writer, poet, aristocrat, journalist, and pioneering aviator. He became a laureate of several of France's highest literary awards and also won the U.S. National Book Award. He is best remembered for his novella The Little Princeand for his lyrical aviation writings, including Wind, Sand and Stars and Night Flight...
NationalityFrench
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth29 June 1900
CityLyon, France
CountryFrance
Truth is not that which is demonstrable but that which is ineluctable.
She knew this man's smile, his gentle ways of love, but not his godlike fury in the storm. She might snare him in a fragile net of music, love and flowers, but, at each departure, he would break forth without, it seemed to her, the least regret.
If you tame me, it would be as if the sun came to shine on my life.
For, to conceited men, all other men are admirers.
And that heart which was a wild garden was given to him who only loved trim lawns. And the imbecile carried the princess into slavery.
But the conceited man did not hear him. Conceited people never hear anything but praise.
Only the children know what they are looking for.
The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past, your future, the arms of love gather you together.
Life always bursts the boundaries of formulas.
How is it possible for one to own the stars?" "To whom do they belong?" the businessman retorted, peevishly. "I don't know. To nobody.
All of us have had the experience of a sudden joy that came when nothing in the world had forewarned us of its coming - a joy so thrilling that if it was born of misery we remembered even the misery with tenderness.
If I were to command a general to turn into a seagull, and if the general did not obey, that would not be the general's fault. It would be mine.
It is not for us to forecast the future, but to shape it.
No destiny attacks us from outside. But, within him, man bears his fate and there comes a moment when he knows himself vulnerable; and then, as in a vertigo, blunder upon blunder lures him.