In Every Crowd Are Certain Persons Who

Commonly, People Believe That Defeat Is Characterized By A General Bustle And A Feverish Rush. Bustle And Rush Are The Signs Of Victory, Not Of Defeat. Victory Is A Thing Of Action. It Is A House In The Act Of Being Built. Every Participant In Victory Sweats And Puffs, Carrying The Stones For The Building Of The House. But Defeat Is A Thing Of Weariness, Of Incoherence, Of Boredom. And Above All Of Futility.

Good Morning," Said The Little Prince. "good Morning," Said The Salesclerk. This Was A Salesclerk Who Sold Pills Invented To Quench Thirst. Swallow One A Week And You No Longer Feel Any Need To Drink. "why Do You Sell These Pills?" "they Save So Much Time," The Salesclerk Said. "experts Have Calculated That You Can Save Fifty-three Minutes A Week." "and What Do You Do With Those Fifty-three Minutes?" "whatever You Like." "if I Had Fifty-three Minutes To Spend As I Liked," The Little Prince Said To Himself, "i'd Walk Very Slowly Toward A Water Fountain.

The Field Of Consciousness Is Tiny. It Accepts Only One Problem At A Time. Get Into A Fist Fight, Put Your Mind On The Strategy Of The Fight, And You Will Not Feel The Other Fellow's Punches.

I Am Very Fond Of Sunsets. Come, Let Us Go Look At A Sunset.

He Had Taken Seriously Words Which Were Without Importance, And It Made Him Very Unhappy.