You Become Responsible, Forever, For What You

Nothing Can Match The Treasure Of Common Memories.

It Is The Savor Of Bread Broken With Comrades That Makes Us Accept The Values Of War.

It's A Question Of Discipline,' The Little Prince Told Me Later On. 'when You've Finished Washing And Dressing Each Morning, You Must Tend Your Planet. You Must Be Sure You Pull Up The Baobabs Regularly, As Soon As You Can Tell Them Apart From The Rosebushes, Which They Closely Resemble When They're Very Young. It's Very Tedious Work, But Very Easy.

Nobody Grasped You By The Shoulder While There Was Still Time. Now The Clay Of Which You Were Shaped Has Dried And Hardened, And Naught In You Will Ever Awaken The Sleeping Musician, The Poet, The Asronomer That Possibly Inhabited You In The Beginning.

He Who Would Travel Happy Must Travel Lite.