>>18279374“We do not record flowers,” said the geographer.
“Why is that? The flower is the most beautiful thing on my planet!”
“We do not record them,” said the geographer, “because they are ephemeral.”
“What does that mean ‘ephemeral’?”
“Geographies,” said the geographer, “are the books which, of all books, are most concerned with
matters of consequence. They never become old-fashioned. It is very rarely that a mountain
changes its position. It is very rarely that an ocean empties itself of its waters. We write of eternal
things.”
“But extinct volcanoes may come to life again,” the little prince interrupted.
“What does that mean ‘ephemeral’?”
“Whether volcanoes are extinct or alive, it comes to the same thing for us,” said the geographer.
“The thing that matters to us is the mountain. It does not change.”
“But what does that mean ‘ephemeral’?” repeated the little prince, who never in his life had let go
of a question, once he had asked it.
“It means, ‘which is in danger of speedy disappearance.’ “
“Is my flower in danger of speedy disappearance?”
“Certainly it is.”
“My flower is ephemeral,” the little prince said to himself, “and she has only four thorns to
defend herself against the world. And I have left her on my planet, all alone!”
That was his first moment of regret. But he took courage once more. “What place would you
advise me to visit now?” he asked. “The planet Earth,” replied the geographer. “It has a good
reputation.” And the little prince went away, thinking of his flower.
