Thursday, January 14, 2010

the eye and the art and the hue

"you are nothing like my rose", he told them.

"as yet you are nothing at all.
nobody has tamed you,
and you have tamed nobody.
you are as my fox used to be.
he was just a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes,
but i made him my friend,
and now he is unique in this world."

"you are beautiful, but you are empty," he went on.

"one could not die for you.
of course, an ordinary passerby would think
my rose looked just like you.
but in herself she matters more than all of you together,
since it is she that i watered;
since it is she that i placed under a glass dome;
since it is she that i sheltered with a screen;
since it is she whose caterpillars i killed
(except the two or three we saved up to become butterflies).
since it is she that i listened to,
when she complained, or boasted,
or when she was simply being silent.
Since it is she who is my rose."


"you can only see things clearly with your heart
what is essential is invisible to the eye"

"it is the time you wasted in your rose
that makes your rose so important."

(the little prince)

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