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
Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward together in the same direction.
Life has taught us that love does not consist in gazing at each other, but in looking together in the same direction.
Loving is not just looking at each other, it's looking in the same direction.
Love is not just looking at each other, it's looking in the same direction.
Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking together in the same direction.
Once we are bound together to our brothers by a common good that is outside us, then we can breathe. Experience teaches us that love is not to gaze at one another but to gaze in the same direction. There is no comradeship except through unity on the same rope, climbing towards the same peak.
It is the missed opportunity that counts, and in a love that vainly yearns from behind prison bars you have perchance the love supreme.
It is as a soldier that you make love and as a lover that you make war.
What did I care about my hammer, about my bolt, about thirst or death? There was, on one star, on one planet, on mine, the Earth, a little prince to be consoled! I took him in my arms. I rocked him. I told him, 'The flower you love is not in danger...I'll draw you a muzzle for your sheep...I'll draw you a fence for your flower...I' I didn't know what to say. How clumsy I felt! I didn't know how to reach him, where to find him...It's so mysterious, the land of tears.
The arms of love encompass you with your present, your past, your future, the arms of love gather you together.
To love is not to look at one another: it is to look, together, in the same direction.
True love is visible not to the eyes but to the heart, for eyes may be deceived....
On a day of burial there is no perspective--for space itself is annihilated. Your dead friend is still a fragmentary being. The day you bury him is a day of chores and crowds, of hands false or true to be shaken, of the immediate cares of mourning. The dead friend will not really die until tomorrow, when silence is round you again. Then he will show himself complete, as he was--to tear himself away, as he was, from the substantial you. Only then will you cry out because of him who is leaving and whom you cannot detain.
Whoever loves above all the approach of love will never know the joy of attaining it.