i still cry everytime i re-read this book. :'-)

• you become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.
• what makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well.
• grown-ups like numbers. when you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. they never ask: "what does his voice sound like?" "what games does he like best?" "does he collect butterflies?". they ask: "how old is he?" "how many brothers does he have?" "how much does he weigh?" "how much money does his father make?" only then do they think they know him.
• but eyes are blind. one must look with the heart.
• one loves the sunset, when one is so sad.
• if someone loves a flower, of which just one single blossom grows in all the millions and millions of stars, it is enough to make him happy just to look at the stars. he can say to himself, 'somewhere, my flower is there.'
• the fact is that i did not know how to understand anything! i ought to have judged by deeds and not by words. she cast her fragrance and her radiance over me. i ought never to have run away from her... i ought to have guessed all the affection that lay behind her poor little strategems. flowers are so inconsistent! but i was too young to know how to love her...
• of course i love you. it is my fault that you have not known it all the while. that is of no importance. but you--you have been just as foolish as i. try to be happy...
• then you shall judge yourself. that is the most difficult thing of all. it is much more difficult to judge oneself than to judge others. if you succeed in judging yourself rightly, then you are indeed a man of true wisdom.
• one only understands the things that one tames. men have no more time to understand anything. they buy things all ready made at the shops. but there is no shop anywhere where one can buy friendship, and so men have no friends any more.
• it is such a secret place, the land of tears.
• one runs the risk of weeping a little, if one lets himself be tamed.
• you are beautiful, but you are empty. one could not die for you. to be sure, an ordinary passerby would think that my rose looked just like you-- the rose that belongs to me. but in herself alone, she is more important than all the hundreds of you other roses: because it is she that i have put under the glass globe; because it she that i have sheltered behind the screen; because it is she that i have listened to, when she grumbled, or boasted, or even sometimes when she said nothing. because she is my rose.