A. de Saint-Exupery - The Little Prince. - An excerpt about the fox lyrics

Fedorova

If you tame me, my life will be like the sun. I will distinguish your steps among thousands of others. Hearing human footsteps, I always run and hide. But your walk will call me like music, and I will come out of my shelter. And then - look! See, over there, in the fields, the wheat is ripening? I don't eat bread. I don't need spikes. Wheat fields mean nothing to me. And it's sad! But you have golden hair. And how wonderful it will be when you tame me! Golden wheat will remind me of you. And I will love the rustle of ears of corn in the wind... The fox fell silent and looked at the Little Prince for a long time. Then he said: - Please ... tame me! “I would be glad,” answered the little prince, “but I have so little time. I still have to find friends and learn different things. - You can learn only those things that you tame, - said the Fox. “People don’t have enough time to learn anything. They buy things ready-made in stores. But after all, there are no shops where friends would trade, and therefore people no longer have friends. If you want a friend, tame me! - What should be done for this? asked the little prince. “You have to be patient,” Fox replied. “First, sit over there, at some distance, on the grass—like this. I will look askance at you, and you keep quiet. Words only make it difficult to understand each other. But every day sit a little closer... The next day, the Little Prince again came to the same place. “It’s better to always come at the same hour,” the Fox asked. - For example, if you come at four o'clock, I will feel happy from three o'clock. And the closer to the appointed hour, the happier. At four o'clock I will already begin to worry and worry. I know the price of happiness... So the Little Prince tamed the Fox. And now it's time to say goodbye. "I'll cry for you," sighed the Fox. “You yourself are to blame,” said the little prince. - I didn't want you to be hurt, you yourself wanted me to tame you ... - Yes, of course, - said the Fox. But you will cry! - Yes, sure. - So you feel bad about it. - No, - objected the Fox, - I'm fine. Remember what I said about the golden ears. He stopped. Then he added: - Go and look again at the roses. You will understand that your rose is the only one in the world. And when you return to say goodbye to me, I will tell you a secret. This will be my gift to you. The little prince went to look at the roses. “You are nothing like my rose,” he told them. - You're nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have not tamed anyone. This was before my Fox. He was no different from a hundred thousand other foxes. But I made friends with him, and now he is the only one in the whole world. The roses were very confused. “You are beautiful, but empty,” continued the Little Prince. - I don't want to die for you. Of course, a random passerby, looking at my rose, will say that it is exactly the same as you. But she alone is dearer to me than all of you. After all, it is her, and not you, I watered every day. He covered her, and not you, with a glass cap. He blocked it with a screen, protecting it from the wind. For her, he killed the caterpillars, only left two or three for the butterflies to hatch. I listened to how she complained and how she boasted, I listened to her even when she was silent. She is mine. And the Little Prince returned to the Fox. - Farewell... - he said. "Goodbye," said the Fox. - Here is my secret, it is very simple: only the heart is vigilant. You can't see the most important thing with your eyes. “You can’t see the most important thing with your eyes,” repeated the Little Prince, in order to better remember. - Your rose is so dear to you because you gave her all your soul. “Because I gave her all my soul…” repeated the Little Prince, to better remember. “People have forgotten this truth,” said the Fox, “but don’t forget: you are forever responsible for everyone you tamed.

Chekhov. About love (excerpt from the story) Marchenko

I was unhappy. And at home, and in the field, and in the barn, I thought about her, I tried to understand the secret of a young, beautiful, intelligent woman who marries an uninteresting man, almost an old man (her husband was over forty years old), has children from him - to understand the secret of this uninteresting man, a good-natured, simpleton, who argues with such boring common sense, at balls and parties keeps close to respectable people, languid, unnecessary, with a submissive, indifferent expression, as if he had been brought here to be sold, who believes, however, in his right to be happy to have children from her; and I kept trying to understand why it was he who met her and not me, and why it was necessary for such a terrible mistake to occur in our lives.

And when I came to the city, every time I saw in her eyes that she was waiting for me; and she herself confessed to me that since the morning she had some kind of special feeling, she guessed that I would come. We talked for a long time, were silent, but we did not confess our love to each other and hid it timidly, jealously. We were afraid of everything that could reveal our secret to ourselves. I loved tenderly, deeply, but I reasoned, I asked myself where our love could lead if we did not have the strength to fight it; it seemed unbelievable to me that this quiet, sad love of mine would suddenly abruptly end the happy course of the life of her husband, children, all this house where I was so loved and where they believed me so much. Is it fair? She would follow me, but where? Where could I take her? Another thing is if I had a beautiful, interesting life, if, for example, I fought for the liberation of my homeland or was a famous scientist, artist, artist, otherwise, from one ordinary, everyday situation, I would have to carry her away to another of the same or even more everyday. And how long would our happiness last? What would happen to her in the event of my illness, death, or simply if we stopped loving each other?

And she seemed to reason in the same way. She thought about her husband, about children, about her mother, who loved her husband like a son. If she gave herself up to her feelings, then she would have to lie or tell the truth, and in her position both would be equally terrible and uncomfortable. And she was tormented by the question: will her love bring me happiness, will it not complicate my life, already difficult, full of all sorts of misfortunes? It seemed to her that she was no longer young enough for me, hardworking and energetic enough to start a new life, and she often talked to her husband about the need for me to marry an intelligent, worthy girl who would be a good housewife, assistant, and she immediately added that there was hardly such a girl in the whole city.

Meanwhile, the years went by. Anna Alekseevna already had two children. When I came to the Luganoviches, the servants smiled kindly, the children shouted that Uncle Pavel Konstantinych had come, and hung themselves around my neck; everyone rejoiced. They did not understand what was going on in my soul, and thought that I, too, rejoiced. Everyone saw me as a noble being. Both adults and children felt that a noble being was walking around the room, and this brought some special charm to their relationship with me, as if in my presence their life was cleaner and more beautiful. Anna Alekseevna and I went to the theater together, each time on foot; we sat in armchairs side by side, our shoulders touched, I silently took the binoculars from her hands and at that time I felt that she was close to me, that she was mine, that we couldn’t live without each other, but, due to some strange misunderstanding, leaving theater, every time we said goodbye and parted like strangers. God knows what they were already talking about in the city, but of everything they said, there was not a single word of truth.

In recent years, Anna Alekseevna began to go more often to her mother, then to her sister; she was already in a bad mood, there was a consciousness of an unsatisfied, spoiled life, when she did not want to see either her husband or children. She was already being treated for a nerve disorder.

We were silent and still silent, and in the presence of strangers she experienced some strange irritation against me; no matter what I said, she did not agree with me, and if I argued, then she took the side of my opponent. When I dropped something, she said coldly:

- Congratulations.

If, going to the theater with her, I forgot to take binoculars, then later she would say:

- I knew that you would forget.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there is nothing in our life that would not end sooner or later. The time has come for parting, as Luganovich was appointed chairman in one of the western provinces. It was necessary to sell furniture, horses, cottages. When we went to the dacha and then returned and looked back for the last time to look at the garden, at the green roof, everyone was sad, and I understood that the time had come to say goodbye not only to the dacha. It was decided that at the end of August we would escort Anna Alekseevna to the Crimea, where her doctors had been sent, and a little later Luganovich would leave with the children for his western province.

We saw off Anna Alekseevna with a large crowd. When she had already said goodbye to her husband and children, and only a moment remained before the third call, I ran into her compartment to put on the shelf one of her baskets, which she had almost forgotten; and I had to say goodbye. When here, in the compartment, our eyes met, the spiritual strength left us both, I hugged her, she pressed her face against my chest, and tears flowed from her eyes; kissing her face, her shoulders, her hands, wet with tears - oh, how unhappy we were with her! - I confessed my love to her, and with a burning pain in my heart, I realized how unnecessary, petty and how deceptive was everything that prevented us from loving. I realized that when you love, then in your reasoning about this love you need to start from something higher, from something more important than happiness or unhappiness, sin or virtue in their current sense, or you don’t need to reason at all.

I kissed for the last time, shook hands, and we parted - forever. The train was already running. I got into the next compartment - it was empty - and sat there until the first station and cried. Then he went to his place in Sofyino on foot ...

excerpt from the work of A. Green "Scarlet Sails"

Sulzhenko

Gray visited three shops, emphasizing precisionchoice, as I mentally saw the desired color and shade. In the first twoshops, he was shown market-coloured silks intended to satisfyunpretentious vanity; in the third he found examples of complex effects. Masterthe shop bustled around happily, laying out stale fabrics, but Gray wasserious as an anatomist. He patiently dismantled the bundles, put them aside, shifted them,unfolded and looked into the light so many scarlet stripes that the counter,littered with them seemed to flare up. On the toe of Gray's boot lay purplewave; a rosy glow shone on his arms and face. Roaring in the lungresistance of silk, he distinguished colors: red, pale pink and pinkdark, thick boils of cherry, orange and dark red tones; were hereshades of all forces and meanings, various - in their imaginary relationship, likewords: "charming" - "beautiful" - "magnificent" - "perfectly"; Vfolds lurked hints, inaccessible to the language of vision, but the true scarlet colorfor a long time did not appear to the eyes of our captain; what the shopkeeper brought wasgood, but didn't evoke a clear and firm "yes". Finally, one color attracteddisarmed attention of the buyer; he sat down in an armchair by the window, pulled outnoisy silk long end, threw it on his knees and, lounging, with a pipe inteeth, became contemplatively motionless.This one is completely pure, like a scarlet morning stream, full of noblefun and royalty, the color was exactly the proud color thatlooking for Gray. There were no mixed shades of fire, poppy petals, gamepurple or lilac hints; there was also no blue, no shadow, nothingwhich is doubtful. He glowed like a smile with the charm of a spiritual reflection.Gray was so thoughtful that he forgot about the owner, who was waiting behind him withthe tension of a hunting dog that has made a stance. Tired of waiting, merchantreminded of itself by the crackling of a torn piece of matter."Enough samples," Gray said, rising, "I'll take this silk."- The whole piece? asked the trader, respectfully doubtful. But Graysilently looked him in the forehead, which made the owner of the shop a little more cheeky. --In that case, how many meters?Gray nodded, inviting them to wait, and calculated with a pencil on paperrequired quantity.“Two thousand meters. He looked doubtfully at the shelves. --Yes, no moretwo thousand meters.- Two? - said the owner, jumping convulsively, like a spring. --Thousands? Meters? Please sit down, captain. Would you like to take a look, captain,samples of new materials? As you wish. Here are the matches, here is the beautifultobacco; I ask you to. Two thousand... two thousand. --He said the price havingthe same attitude to the present as an oath to a simple "yes", but Gray wassatisfied, because he did not want to bargain for anything. --Amazing, the bestsilk, continued the shopkeeper,such.When at last he was completely ecstatic, Gray agreed with him ondelivery, taking on his own account the costs, paid the bill and left, escortedhost with honors of the Chinese king.

Bukhantsova

And then one evening we returned to the barracks from work. It rained all day, rags on us at least squeeze; all of us in the cold wind chilled like dogs, tooth on tooth does not fall. But there is nowhere to dry off, to warm up - the same thing, and besides, the hungry are not only to death, but even worse. But in the evening we were not supposed to eat.

I took off my wet rags, threw them on the bunks and said: "They need four cubic meters of working, but for the grave of each of us, even one cubic meter through the eyes is enough." He just said it, but then some scoundrel from his own was found, he informed the camp commandant about these bitter words of mine.

The commandant of the camp, or, in their language, the Lagerführer, was the German Müller. He was short, stout, blond, and he himself was somehow white: the hair on his head was white, and his eyebrows, and eyelashes, even his eyes were whitish, bulging. He spoke Russian, like you and I, and even leaned on the "o", as if a native Volzhan. And he was a terrible master of swearing. And where, damned, did he only learn this trade? Sometimes he would line us up in front of the block - that's what they called the hut - he would walk in front of the line with his pack of SS men, holding his right hand out. He has it in a leather glove, and a lead gasket in the glove so as not to hurt his fingers. He goes and hits every second person in the nose, bleeds. This he called "prophylaxis against the flu." And so every day. There were only four blocks in the camp, and now he arranges "prevention" for the first block, tomorrow for the second, and so on.

He was a neat bastard, he worked seven days a week. Only one thing he, the fool, could not figure out: before going to lay his hands on him, in order to inflame himself, he swears for about ten minutes in front of the formation. He swears for nothing, but it makes it easier for us: it’s like the words are ours, natural, like the breeze blows from his native side ... If he knew that his swearing gives us pleasure, he wouldn’t swear in Russian but only in their own language. Only one Muscovite friend of mine was terribly angry with him. “When he swears,” he says, “I’ll close my eyes and it’s like I’m sitting in Moscow, on Zatsep, in a pub, and I’ll want beer so much that I even get dizzy.” So this same commandant, the next day after I said about cubic meters, calls me. In the evening, a translator and two guards come to the barracks. "Who is Andrey Sokolov?"

I responded. "March behind us, Herr Lagerführer himself demands you." It is clear why it is required. For spray. I said goodbye to my comrades, they all knew that I was going to die, sighed and went. I walk through the camp yard, I look at the stars, I say goodbye to them too, I think: "So you have exhausted yourself, Andrey Sokolov, and in the camp - number three hundred and thirty-one." Something felt sorry for Irinka and the kids, and then this one calmed down and I began to gather my courage to look into the hole of the pistol fearlessly, as befits a soldier, so that the enemies would not see in my last minute that I was still parting with my life difficult...

In the curfew - flowers on the windows, clean, like we have in a good club. At the table - all the camp authorities. Five people are sitting, chopping schnapps and eating lard. On the table they have an open, hefty bottle of schnapps, bread, lard, pickled apples, open jars with various preserves. I instantly looked around at all this grub, and - you won’t believe it - it made me so sick that I didn’t vomit after a small one. I'm hungry like a wolf, weaned from human food, and there's so much good in front of you... Somehow I suppressed nausea, but I tore my eyes off the table through great strength.

Half-drunk Muller is sitting right in front of me, playing with a pistol, throwing it from hand to hand, and he looks at me and does not blink like a snake. Well, I clicked my hands at the seams, clicked my worn-out heels, loudly reporting like this: "Prisoner of war Andrey Sokolov, on your orders, Herr Commandant, appeared." He asks me: "So, Russ Ivan, is four cubic meters of output a lot?" - "That's right, - I say, - Herr Kommandant, a lot." - "Is one enough for your grave?" - "That's right, Herr Commandant, it will be enough and even remain."

He stood up and said: "I will do you a great honor, now I will personally shoot you for these words. It's uncomfortable here, let's go to the yard, and there you will sign." - "Your will," - I tell him. He stood for a moment, thought, and then threw the pistol on the table and poured a full glass of schnapps, took a piece of bread, put a slice of bacon on it and gave it all to me and said: “Before you die, drink, Russ Ivan, to the victory of German weapons.”

I was from his hands and took a glass and a snack, but as soon as I heard these words, it was like a fire burned me! I think to myself: “So that I, a Russian soldier, should start drinking for the victory of German weapons?! Is there something you don’t want, Herr Commandant?

I put the glass on the table, put down the appetizer and said: "Thank you for the treat, but I'm a non-drinker." He smiles: "Do you want to drink to our victory? In that case, drink to your death." What did I have to lose? “I will drink to my death and deliverance from torment,” I tell him. With that, he took a glass and poured it into himself in two gulps, but did not touch the appetizer, politely wiped his lips with his palm and said: "Thank you for the treat. I'm ready, Herr Commandant, come on, paint me."

But he looks carefully and says: "At least have a bite before you die." I answer him: "I don't have a snack after the first glass." He pours a second one and gives it to me. I drank the second one, and again I don’t touch the snack, I beat for courage, I think: “At least I’ll get drunk before I go into the yard, part with my life.” The commandant raised his white eyebrows high and asked: "Why don't you have a snack, Russ Ivan? Don't be shy!" And I told him mine: "Excuse me, Herr Kommandant, I'm not used to having a snack even after the second glass." He puffed out his cheeks, snorted, and then how he burst out laughing and through laughter something quickly speaks in German: apparently, he is translating my words to his friends. They also laughed, moved their chairs, turned their muzzles towards me and already, I notice, they look at me somehow differently, kind of softer.

The commandant pours me a third glass, and my hands are shaking with laughter. I drank this glass at a stretch, bit off a small piece of bread, put the rest on the table. I wanted to show them, damned ones, that although I’m dying of hunger, I’m not going to choke on their sop, that I have my own, Russian dignity and pride, and that they didn’t turn me into a beast, no matter how hard they tried.

After that, the commandant became serious in appearance, straightened two iron crosses on his chest, left the table unarmed and said: “Here you are, Sokolov, you are a real Russian soldier. You are a brave soldier. I am also a soldier and respect worthy opponents "I won't shoot you. In addition, today our valiant troops have reached the Volga and completely captured Stalingrad. This is a great joy for us, and therefore I generously give you life. Go to your bloc, and this is for your courage," and gives me a small loaf of bread and a piece of bacon from the table.

I pressed the bread to myself with all my strength, I hold the bacon in my left hand and was so confused by such an unexpected turn that I didn’t even say thank you, I made a circle to the left, I go to the exit, and I myself think: “It will light up for me now between the shoulder blades, and I won’t bring these grubs to the guys.” No, it worked out. And this time death passed me by, only a chill from it pulled ... I left the commandant's room on firm legs, and in the yard I was carried away. Stumbled into the barracks and fell unconscious on the cement floor. We woke me up in the dark: "Tell me!" Well, I remembered what was in the curfew, I told them. "How are we going to share grub?" - asks my bunk neighbor, and his voice trembles. "Equally for everyone," I tell him.

V.P. Astafiev Why did I kill the corncrake

Kravtsova

That was a long time ago, maybe forty years ago. In early autumn, I was returning from fishing along a mowed meadow and near a small bog that had dried up over the summer, overgrown with willow, I saw a bird.

She heard me, sat down in the sloping bristles of the sedge, hid, but my eye felt, she was frightened of him, and suddenly rushed to run, clumsily toppling to one side.

You don’t have to run away from the boy, like from a hound dog - he will certainly rush in pursuit, wild excitement will kindle in him. Beware then living soul!

I caught up with the bird in the furrow and, blind from the chase, the passion of hunting, swept it with a damp rod.

I took in my hand a bird with a wilted, seemingly boneless body. Her eyes were pinched by dead, colorless eyelids, her neck, like a frost-bitten leaf, dangled. The feather on the bird was yellowish, with rust on the sides, and the back seemed to be strewn with darkish rot.

I recognized the bird - it was a corncrake. Dergach in our opinion. All his dergachi friends left our places, went to warmer climes to spend the winter. This one couldn't leave. He did not have one paw - in the hayfield he fell under the Lithuanian. That's why he ran so clumsily from me, that's why I caught up with him.

And the thin, almost weightless body of a bird, whether it was a simple color, or maybe the fact that she was without a leg, but I felt sorry for her so much that I began to dig a hole in the furrow with my hands and bury the animals so simply, foolishly ruined.

I grew up in a family of a hunter and later became a hunter myself, but I never shot unnecessarily. With impatience and guilt, already inveterate, every summer I wait for corostels home, in Russian lands.

Already the bird cherry has faded, the kupava has crumbled, the hellebore has started up on the fourth leaf, the grass has moved into the stem, the daisies have poured over the eels and the nightingales sing their songs on their last breath.

But something is still missing from the early summer, something is missing from it, something has not yet taken shape, or something.

And then one day, on a dewy morning, across the river, in the meadows covered with still young grass, the creak of a corncrake was heard. Appeared, tramp! Got it! Pulls-creaks! This means that the full summer has begun, which means that haymaking is soon, which means that everything is in order.

And every year like this. I'm languishing and waiting for the corncrake, I convince myself that it was that old jerk who somehow miraculously survived and gives me a voice, forgiving that unintelligent, gambling boy.

Now I know how difficult the life of a corncrake is, how far it has to get to us in order to notify Russia of the beginning of summer.

The corncrake winters in Africa and leaves it already in April, rushing there, “... where poppy dawns wither like the heat of a forgotten fire, where green-haired forests drown in the blue dawn, where the meadow has not yet been touched by a slanting one, where cornflower blue eyes ... ". He goes to build a nest and breed offspring, feed him and quickly get away from the disastrous winter.

Not adapted to flight, but fast on the run, this bird is forced to fly over the Mediterranean Sea twice a year. Many thousands of corncrakes die on the way, and especially when flying over the sea.

How the corncrake goes, where, in what ways - few people know. Only one city gets in the way of these birds - a small ancient city in the south of France. The coat of arms of the city depicts a corncrake. On those days when corostels go around the city, no one works here. All people celebrate the holiday and bake figurines of this bird from the dough, as we, in Rus', bake larks for their arrival.

The corncrake bird is considered sacred in the French old town, and if I had lived there in the old days, I would have been sentenced to death.

But I live far from France. I have been living for many years and have seen all sorts of things. I was at war, I shot at people, and they shot at me.

But why, why, as soon as I hear the creak of a corncrake across the river, my heart trembles and again one old torment falls on me: why did I kill the corncrake? For what?

This is where Lis came in.
"Hello," he said.
“Hello,” the Little Prince replied politely and looked around, but saw no one.
"I'm here," a voice said. - Under the apple tree...
"Who are you?" asked the little prince. How handsome you are!
“I am the Fox,” said the Fox.
"Play with me," the little prince asked, I'm sad...
"I can't play with you," said the Fox. - I'm not hooked.
“Ah, sorry,” said the Little Prince, but after thinking he asked:
- And how to tame it?
"You're not from here," said the Fox. - What are you looking for here?
- I'm looking for people, said the little prince. And how to tame it?
- People have guns and they go hunting. It is very uncomfortable! And they also raise chickens. That's the only thing they're good at. Are you looking for chickens?
"No," said the little prince. - I'm looking for friends, but how to tame it?
"It's a long forgotten concept," the Fox explained. - It means to create bonds.
- Bonds?
"That's right," said the Fox. “You are still just a little boy for me, exactly the same as a hundred thousand other boys. I don't need it. And you don't need me either. I am only a fox for you, exactly the same as a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we'll need each other. You will be the only one for me in the whole world. And I'll be the only one for you in the whole world...
"I'm beginning to understand," said the little prince. - There is one rose ... Probably, she tamed me ...
"Very likely," Fox agreed. - Nothing happens on Earth.
“It was not on Earth,” said the little prince. Lis was very surprised:
- On another planet?
- Yes.
“Are there hunters on that planet?”
- No.
- How interesting, but there are chickens there?
- No.
- There is no perfection in the world! Lis sighed. But then he spoke again about the same thing:
- My life is boring. I hunt chickens, and people hunt me. All chickens are the same and people are all the same. And my life is boring. But if you tame me, my life will be like the sun. I will distinguish your steps among thousands of others. Hearing human footsteps, I always run and hide. But your walk will call me like music, and I will come out of my shelter. And then - look! See, over there, in the fields, the wheat is ripening? I don't eat bread. I don't need spikes. Wheat fields mean nothing to me. And it's sad! But you have golden hair. And how wonderful it will be when you tame me! The golden wheat will start to remind me of you. And I will love the rustle of ears in the wind...
The fox froze and looked at the Little Prince for a long time. Then he said:
- Please tame me!
“I would love to,” replied the Little Prince, “but I have so little time. I still need to find friends and learn different things.
“You can learn only those things that you tame,” said the Fox. “People don’t have time to learn anything. They buy things ready-made in stores. But there are no shops where friends would trade, and therefore people no longer have friends. If you want a friend, tame me!
- What should be done for this? asked the little prince.
“You have to be patient,” Fox replied. “First, sit down over there, on the grass a little way off—like this. I will look askance at you, and you keep quiet. Words only make it difficult to understand each other. But every day, sit a little closer...
Nazawatra The Little Prince again came to the same place.
“It’s better to always come at the same hour,” the Fox asked. - For example, if you come at four o'clock, I will feel happy from three o'clock. And the closer to the appointed hour, the happier. At four o'clock I will already begin to worry and worry. I'll know the price! And if you come every time at a different time, I don’t know what hour to prepare the heart for ... You need to observe the rites.
- What are rituals? asked the little prince.
- This is also something long forgotten, - explained the Fox. - Something that makes one day different from all other days, one hour - from other hours. Here. For example, my hunters have this ritual: on Thursdays they dance with the village girls. And what a wonderful day it is Thursday. I go for a walk and reach the very vineyard. And if the hunters danced when they had to, all the days would be the same, and I would never know rest.
So the Little Prince tamed the Fox. And now it's time to say goodbye.
- I'll cry for you, - sighed the Fox.
“You yourself are to blame,” said the little prince. - I didn't want you to be hurt; you yourself wanted me to tame you ...
“Yes, of course,” said the Fox.
But you will cry.
- Yes, sure.
- So you feel bad about it.
- No, - objected the Fox, - I'm fine. Remember what I said about the golden ears. HE is silent. Then he added:
- Go and look at the roses again. You will understand that your rose is the only one in the world. And when you return to say goodbye to me, I will tell you a secret. This will be my gift to you.
The little prince went to look at the roses.
“You are nothing like my rose,” he told them. - You are nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have not tamed anyone. This was before my Fox. He was no different from a hundred other foxes. But I made friends with him, and now he is the only one in the whole world.
The roses were very confused.
“You are beautiful, but empty,” continued the Little Prince. - I don't want to die for you. Of course, a casual passerby, looking at my rose, will say that it is the same as willows. But she is dearer to me than all of you. After all, it is her, and not you, I watered every day. She, and not you, was covered with a cap. He blocked it with a screen, protecting it from the wind. For her, he killed the caterpillars, only left two or three for the butterflies to hatch. I listened to how she complained and how she boasted, I listened to her even when she was silent. She is mine.
And the Little Prince returned to the Fox.
"Goodbye..." he said.
- Farewell, said the Fox. - Here is my secret, it is very simple: only the heart is vigilant. You can't see the most important thing with your eyes.
“You can’t see the most important thing with your eyes,” repeated the Little Prince, in order to better remember.
- Your rose is zhoroga to you because you gave it all your days ...
- Because I gave her all my days .. - repeated the Little Prince, in order to better remember.
“People have forgotten this truth,” said the Fox, “but don’t forget: you are forever responsible for everyone you tamed. You are responsible for your rose.
- I am responsible for my rose ... - the Little Prince made a story in order to better remember ...

Why did I reprint all this from the book question. I just love this fairy tale ... every time I read it, but I still can’t stop reading it again, it’s like that ...

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One of the most sincere and talented writers Antoine de Saint-Exupery was born 115 years ago. In his books, as well as in life, love for his wife, nostalgia for childhood and many other feelings and experiences, deep and personal, are closely intertwined. In the short time that fate took him, he managed to publish a large number of stories. In them he put a great love for all mankind and soul.

website collected for you the best quotes from the books of Saint-Exupery, which contain all the life experience and heart of the famous French writer.

About adults and children

• I'm afraid to become like adults who are not interested in anything but numbers.
• All adults were children at first, only few of them remember this.
• Adults are very fond of numbers. When you tell them that you have a new friend, they will never ask about the most important thing. They will never say: “What kind of voice does he have? What games does he like to play? Does he catch butterflies? They ask: “How old is he? How many brothers does he have? How much does he weigh? How much does his father earn? And after that they imagine that they recognized the person.
• Children should be very lenient towards adults.
• Adults never understand anything themselves, and it is very tiring for children to endlessly explain and interpret everything to them.
• When you say to adults: “I saw a beautiful house made of pink brick, it has geraniums in the windows, and pigeons on the roof,” they cannot imagine this house in any way. They need to be told: “I saw a house for a hundred thousand francs,” and then they exclaim: “What a beauty!”

About love

• Only one heart is vigilant. You can't see the most important thing with your eyes.
• True love begins where nothing is expected in return.
• To love is not to look at each other, to love is to look together in the same direction.
• Hearing human footsteps, I always run and hide. But your walk will call me like music, and I will come out of my shelter. And then - look! See, over there, in the fields, the wheat is ripening? I don't eat bread. I don't need spikes. Wheat fields mean nothing to me. And it's sad! But you have golden hair. And how wonderful it will be when you tame me! Golden wheat will remind me of you. And I will love the rustle of ears in the wind...
• “People get into fast trains, but they themselves do not understand what they are looking for,” said the Little Prince, “so they do not know peace, they rush one way or the other ... And all in vain ... Eyes are blind . You have to search with your heart."
• Do not mix love with the desire to possess, which brings so much torment. Contrary to popular belief, love does not hurt. The instinct of ownership is tormenting.
• A favorite flower is, first of all, a rejection of all other flowers.
• If you love without hope of reciprocity, be silent about your love. In silence it will become fruitful.
• Separation will teach you to love truly.

About friendship

• People don't have enough time to learn anything. They buy things ready-made in stores. But there are no shops where friends would trade, and therefore people no longer have friends.
• My friend never explained anything to me. Maybe he thought I was just like him.
• It's very sad when friends are forgotten. Not everyone had a friend. And I'm afraid to become like adults who are not interested in anything but numbers.
• It's good to have a friend, even if you're about to die.
• You are still just a little boy for me, just like a hundred thousand other boys. And I don't need you. And you don't need me either. I am only a fox for you, exactly the same as a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, we will need each other. You will be the only one in the world for me. And I'll be the only one for you in the whole world...
• I recognize friendship by the absence of disappointments, true love by the impossibility of being offended.
• This was before my Fox. He was no different from a hundred thousand other foxes. But I made friends with him, and now he is the only one in the whole world.

About the eternal

• - Where are the people? The little prince finally spoke again. It's lonely in the desert...
  “It’s also lonely among people,” said the snake.
• Although human life is more precious than anything in the world, we always act as if there is something even more valuable in the world than human life... But what?
• You live in your actions, not in your body. You are your actions and there is no other you.
• It is much harder to judge oneself than others. If you can judge yourself correctly, then you are truly wise.
• When we comprehend our role on earth, even the most modest and inconspicuous, then only we will be happy.
• You are looking for meaning in life; but its only purpose is for you to finally come true.
• They always grieve about one thing - about the time that has passed, leaving nothing on its own, about the gift of days gone by.

A little prince

Interesting facts about the work:

• The Little Prince was an atypical work for Exupery; before that, he had not written children's books. The tale was written in 1942 in New York shortly before the writer's death.
• The Little Prince is considered the most widely read and translated book in French. The tale has been translated into 250 languages ​​and dialects, including Braille for the blind.
• More than 140 million copies of The Little Prince have been sold worldwide since 1943.
• For the first time, the famous fairy tale of Exupery was published not in the original, but in translation into English. It was published in the USA in 1943 by Reynal & Hitchcock. The tale was published in French by Editions Gallimard only in 1946.
• The famous Soviet translator Nora Gal (Eleonora Galperina) translated The Little Prince into Russian. Initially, she translated the tale from French for the daughters of her friend, the writer Frida Vigdorova. The Little Prince, translated by Nora Gal, was published in 1959 in the Moscow magazine.
• All the heroes of the fairy tale have their prototypes. The image of the prince himself is deeply autobiographical. The rose that the Little Prince loves and guards is his beautiful but capricious wife, the Hispanic Consuelo. And Lis is a good friend of Exupery Sylvia Reinhardt, who helped him in difficult times.

The truth is still to be discovered...

Do you know why the desert doesn't make me feel hopeless? Somewhere, in the middle of an arid space, there is still hope to find life-giving springs...

The animal retains its grace and grace until old age. And the noble clay from which a person is molded shrinks over the years and turns into dust ...)))

Adults seem to take up a lot of space.

In love, you compare yourself to a flower. It seems that there is no other planet with such a fragrance and delicate petals...

Laughter in life is as important as an oasis in a hot and endless desert.

You treasure your rose so much because you put your whole soul into it. Therefore, it seems to be the most exotic and unique flower in the entire universe.

It is probably noble to die for the sake of conquering new lands, but the realities of modern war destroy even the goals for which it was started ...

… people lack their own imagination. They just remember what someone said, so that later they can repeat it from themselves ...

You live in your actions, not in your body. You are your actions and there is no other you.

At the appointed hour, life disintegrates like a pod, yielding seeds.

The earth helps us to understand ourselves, as no books can help us. For the earth resists us.

To love is not to look at each other, to love is to look together in the same direction.

All roads lead to people.

This was before my Fox. He was no different from a hundred thousand other foxes. But I made friends with him, and now he is the only one in the whole world.

Truth is not what is provable, truth is simplicity.

I don't like to pass death sentences. And anyway, it's time for me.

What gives meaning to life gives meaning to death.

Victory goes to the one who rots last. And both opponents are rotting alive.

- Oh, baby, baby, how I love it when you laugh!

And people lack imagination. They only repeat what you tell them ... At home I had a flower, my beauty and joy, and he always spoke first.

Why should we hate each other? We are all one, carried away by the same planet, we are the crew of the same ship.

It is much harder to judge oneself than others. If you can judge yourself correctly, then you are truly wise.

The Spirit alone, touching the clay, creates a Man out of it.

Do you know why the desert is good? Somewhere in it springs are hidden.

A vocation helps to free a person within himself, but it is also necessary for a person to be able to give free rein to his vocation.

The kingdom of man is within us.

She didn't want the Little Prince to see her cry. It was a very proud flower...

You can't make old friends overnight.

All roads lead to people.

Lamps must be protected: a gust of wind can extinguish them.

And if you come every time at a different time, I don’t know what hour to prepare my heart for ...

You are forever responsible for those you have tamed.

Vain people are deaf to everything but praise.

Never listen to what the flowers say. You just have to look at them and breathe in their scent. My flower filled my whole planet with fragrance, but I did not know how to rejoice in it.

Salvation lies in taking the first step. One more step. With him, everything starts anew.

It's stupid to lie when it's so easy to catch you!

It's very sad when friends are forgotten. Not everyone had a friend.

For vain people imagine that everyone admires them.

You can be true to your word and still be lazy.

Lamps must be protected: a gust of wind can extinguish them ...

Do, do I never hear him laugh again? This laughter for me is like a spring in the desert.

If you give free rein to the baobabs, trouble will not be avoided.

Only children know what they are looking for. They give their whole soul to a rag doll, and it becomes very, very dear to them, and if it is taken from them, the children cry.

I didn't want you to get hurt. You yourself wanted me to tame you.

Yes, I said. - Whether it's a house, the stars or the desert - the most beautiful thing in them is what you can't see with your eyes.

Each person has their own stars.

He didn't answer any of my questions, but blushing means yes, doesn't it?

Only children know what they are looking for. They give all their days to a rag doll, and it becomes very, very dear to them, and if it is taken from them, the children cry ...

Children should be very lenient towards adults.

I wish I knew why the stars shine. Probably, then, so that sooner or later everyone could find their own again.

When you let yourself be tamed, then it happens to cry.

There is a hard and fast rule. Get up in the morning, wash your face, put yourself in order - and immediately put your planet in order.

After all, it is so mysterious and unknown, this country of tears.

But I, unfortunately, cannot see the lamb through the walls of the box. Maybe I'm a bit like adults. I must be getting old.

Only one heart is vigilant. You can't see the most important thing with your eyes.

People grow five thousand roses in one garden... and they don't find what they are looking for.

All of us - some vaguely, some more clearly - feel: we need to awaken to life. But how many false paths open up.

The heart also needs water.

And then he also fell silent, because he began to cry ...

Take a look at the sky. And ask yourself: Is that rose still alive or is it gone? Suddenly the lamb ate it? And you will see: everything will be different ... And no adult will ever understand how important this is!

When planting an oak, it is ridiculous to dream that you will soon find shelter in its shade.

The eyes are blind. You have to search with your heart.

People get on fast trains, but they themselves do not understand what they are looking for. Therefore, they do not know peace and rush first in one direction, then in the other ... And all in vain ...

Well, if you once had a friend, even if you have to die.

Each person has their own stars.

When you really want to be sarcastic, sometimes you involuntarily lie.

We woke up the well and it sang...

Words only make it difficult to understand each other.

Adults never understand anything themselves, and for children it is very tiring to endlessly explain and interpret everything to them.

I didn't know what else to say to him. I felt terribly awkward and clumsy. How to call so that he hears, how to catch up with his soul, eluding me ...

Working only for the sake of material goods, we are building a prison for ourselves.

When I asked about something, he seemed not to hear. Only little by little, from random, casually dropped words, everything was revealed to me.

It is good when something new, more perfect is born in a dispute between different civilizations, but it is monstrous when they devour each other.

If you go straight and straight, you won't get far...

Only children know what they are looking for. They give their whole soul to a rag doll, and it becomes very, very dear to them, and if it is taken away from them, the children cry ...

He didn't answer any of my questions, but blushing means yes, doesn't it?

From the hour when the plane and mustard gas became weapons, the war became just a massacre.

All our wealth is dust and ashes, they are powerless to deliver to us what is worth living for.

If you tame me, my life is like the sun
will light up. I will distinguish your steps among thousands of others. Hearing
human steps, I always run and hide. But your walk will call me
like music, and I will come out of my hiding place. And then - look! You see
over there, in the fields, is the wheat ripening? I don't eat bread. I don't need spikes.
Wheat fields mean nothing to me. And it's sad! But you have
Golden hair. And how wonderful it will be when you tame me! Golden
the wheat will remind me of you. And I will love the rustle of ears of corn
wind...
The fox fell silent and looked at the Little Prince for a long time. Then he said:
- Please... tame me!
“I would be glad,” answered the little prince, “but I have so little
time. I still have to find friends and learn different things.
- You can learn only those things that you tame, - said the Fox. -
People no longer have time to learn anything. They buy things
ready in stores. But there are no shops where they would trade
friends, and therefore people no longer have friends. If you want to have
you were a friend, tame me!
- What should be done for this? asked the little prince.
“You have to be patient,” Fox replied. - Sit over there first.
at some distance, on the grass - like this. I will look askance at you, and you
shut up. Words only make it difficult to understand each other. But sit down every day
a little closer...
The next day, the Little Prince again came to the same place.
“It’s better to always come at the same hour,” the Fox asked. - Here,
for example, if you come at four o'clock, I will
feel happy. And the closer to the appointed hour, the
happier. At four o'clock I will already begin to worry and worry. I know the value of happiness...
So the Little Prince tamed the Fox. And now it's time to say goodbye.
"I'll cry for you," sighed the Fox.
“You yourself are to blame,” said the little prince. - I didn't want to
to hurt you, you yourself wished me to tame you ...
“Yes, of course,” said the Fox.
But you will cry!
- Yes, sure.
- So you feel bad about it.
- No, - objected the Fox, - I'm fine. Remember what I said about
golden spikes.
He stopped. Then he added:
- Go and look at the roses again. You will understand that your rose -
the only one in the world. And when you come back to say goodbye to me, I
I will tell you one secret. This will be my gift to you.
The little prince went to look at the roses.
“You are nothing like my rose,” he told them. - You have
nothing. No one has tamed you, and you have not tamed anyone. That was
before my fox. He was no different from a hundred thousand other foxes. But I
made friends with him, and now he is the only one in the whole world.
The roses were very confused.
“You are beautiful, but empty,” continued the Little Prince. - for you
don't want to die. Of course, a passer-by, looking at my
rose, will say that she is exactly the same as you. But she is dearer to me
all of you. After all, it is her, and not you, I watered every day. Her, not you
covered with a glass jar. He blocked her with a screen, protecting her from
wind. He killed caterpillars for her, only left two or three to
butterflies emerged. I listened to how she complained and how she boasted, I
listened to her even when she was silent. She is mine.
And the Little Prince returned to the Fox.
- Farewell... - he said.
"Goodbye," said the Fox. - Here is my secret, it is very simple: vigilantly
only one heart. You can't see the most important thing with your eyes.
“You can’t see the most important thing with your eyes,” repeated the Little Prince,
to remember better.
- Your rose is so dear to you because you gave her all your soul.
“Because I gave her all my soul ...” repeated the Little Prince,
to remember better.
“People have forgotten this truth,” said the Fox, “but do not forget: you
forever responsible for all whom he tamed. You are responsible for
Other lyrics "A. de Saint-Exupery - The Little Prince."

Other titles for this text

• Antoine de Saint-Exupery - Only the heart is vigilant, you cannot see the most important thing with your eyes ... YOU ARE FOREVER RESPONSIBLE FOR THOSE WHO YOU HAVE TAMED ... People have forgotten this simple truth, but only You - do not forget ....
• A. de Saint-Exupery - The Little Prince. - excerpt
• A. de Saint-Exupery - The Little Prince. - An excerpt about a fox