"One day," you said to me, "I saw the sunset forty-four times!"
And a little later you added: "You know — one loves the sunset, when one is so sad..."
"Were you so sad, then?" I asked, "on the day of the forty-four sunsets?"
But the little prince made no reply.

A good night's sleep, or a ten-minute bawl, or a pint of chocolate ice cream, or all three together, is good medicine, Doug.

Nothing remained to her except her beautiful eyes, which inspired pain, because, large as they were, it seemed as though one beheld in them a still larger amount of sadness.

The thing is, if you get very depressed about something, it's hard as hell to swallow.

"Some people turn sad awfully young," he said. "No special reason, it seems, but they seem almost to be born that way. They bruise easier, tire faster, cry quicker, remember longer and, as I say, get sadder younger than anyone else in the world. I know, for I'm one of them."

Beauty and love pass, I know... Oh, there's sadness, too. I suppose all great happiness is a little sad. Beauty means the scent of roses and then the death of roses.

Boo was our neighbor.
He gave us two soap dolls, a broken watch and chain, a pair of good-luck pennies, and our lives.
But neighbors give in return.
We never put back into the tree what we took out of it: we had given him nothing, and it made me sad.

Oh! how easy for those, who have no sorrow of their own to talk of exertion!