He will never have been able to fasten it on his sheep.
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So now I keep wondering: what is happening on his planet? Perhaps the sheep has eaten the flower . . .
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At one time I say to myself: "Surely not! The little prince shuts his flower under her glass globe every night, and he watches over his sheep very carefully . . ."
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Then I am happy. And there is sweetness in the laughter of all the stars.
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But at another time I say to myself: "At some moment or other one is absentminded, and that is enough!
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On some one evening he forgot the glass globe, or the sheep got out, without making any noise, in the night . . ."
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And then the little bells are changed to tears . . .
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Here, then, is a great mystery.
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For you who also love the little prince, and for me, nothing in the universe can be the same if somewhere, we do not know where, a sheep that we never saw has--yes or no?--eaten a rose . . .
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Look up at the sky. Ask yourselves: is it yes or no?
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Has the sheep eaten the flower? And you will see how everything changes . . .
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And no grown-up will ever understand that this is a matter of so much importance!
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This is, to me, the loveliest and saddest landscape in the world.
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It is the same as that on the preceding page, but I have drawn it again to impress it on your memory.
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It is here that the little prince appeared on Earth, and disappeared.
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Look at it carefully so that you will be sure to recognize it in case you travel some day to the African desert.
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And, if you should come upon this spot, please do not hurry on.
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Wait for a time, exactly under the star. Then, if a little man appears who laughs, who has golden hair and who refuses to answer questions, you will know who he is. If this should happen, please comfort me.
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Send me word that he has come back.
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