In a letter to his mother, Saint-Exupéry confessed: “I hate people who write for fun, who chase effects. One must have something to say.” For him, a man of the sky’s romance who didn’t shun earthly joys and, according to his friends, loved “to write, to speak, to sing, to play, to dig into the essence of things, to eat, to draw attention to himself, to woo women”—a person of penetrating mind, with his own virtues and flaws, but who always stood guard over universal human values—there was “something to say.” And he wrote the world’s best-known fairy tale, “The Little Prince,” about the most important thing in this life: life on the planet Earth, which is becoming more and more unkind, yet still beloved and the only one.