Stories with Books

The Little Prince is a collection of well-knit metaphors, so many, so many, metaphors upon metaphors. If there has to be put in one sentence the moral, I’d say it is that even if you become an adult or a grown-up, you should not let the child inside you die. As your life is filled by a King’s ego, a conceited man’s conceit, a tippler’s shame, a businessman’s calculations, a lamplighter’s chores, or a geographer’s voluminous works, you should still be able to find fragrance in a flower, beauty in a desert, time to catch a sunset and enough room to tame someone.

I love The Little Prince. It starts like a children’s book and ends like a serious mystery tale, while you are left wondering what just happened. It’s like a speed-bump which suddenly makes you conscious and you’re suddenly aware of the reality.

This reminds me of a quote I read in another language last year. It said that one should be somewhat stupid, because with too intelligent people, even children don’t play. Strikes like a blow, but that’s that.

The Little Prince is a book to be read again and again. It is timeless. It never gets old. Every time you read it, it’s very much alive and still relevant. In real life, just a reminder that you’ve to keep the little Prince who loved his flower on his little planet, in your mind, is enough to realise that in a man’s flesh, one should still be able to find a child. A Little Prince can bring your childhood back.