The Little Prince: For grown-ups, the best way to end a relationship isn’t to cry, make a scene, cling, or trade insults—it’s this.

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“It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye.”
—The Little Prince

This line has been quoted endlessly.
Those who’ve actually read the book know it’s the secret a fox shares at the moment of farewell.

Psychology has a name for what comes next: the peak–end rule.
We remember an experience largely by its highest point and by how it ends.

How we close a chapter often decides how it will live on in memory.

In his wanderings, the Little Prince goes through three important goodbyes.
Each one is a small lesson in kindness.

1) Leaving with grace is the last act of tenderness

On his tiny planet, the Little Prince lives with his one and only rose.
She perfumes his days and fills them with light.
She’s proud, too—claiming she was born with the sunrise—
and forever asking for things:
a glass dome to keep out the cold,
a screen to stop the drafts,
fresh water every day…

The Little Prince, still young, doesn’t yet understand
that you judge love by what it does, not what it says.
He can’t read her subtext or her brave little performances.
He only feels tired and confused—and decides to go.

On the night before he leaves, he is calm and conscientious.
He cleans out his three volcanoes, waters the rose one last time,
and sets the glass dome gently over her.

“Good-bye,” he says.

“I’ve been foolish,” the rose answers. “Please forgive me—and be happy.”

No blame, no drama. He’s taken aback.

“I love you,” she adds, “though you never knew. That was my fault.
But it’s too late to say more. You’re just as foolish as I am.
I hope you’ll be happy… and leave the dome aside; I won’t need it.”

Leaving or staying always has its reasons; every parting leaves an echo.

The Little Prince’s farewell carries no outburst—only the completion of what he owes.
The rose’s farewell lets go of pride and makes the ending dignified, gentle.

I loved you, too—I just never said it.

A goodbye isn’t forgetting.
It’s remembering, in another form.

2) Because We Loved, the Wheatfields Matter

On Earth, the Little Prince meets a wise fox.

The fox asks him to “tame” her—
then explains that taming simply means forging a bond.

“At the moment, you’re just another little boy to me,
and I’m just another fox to you.
But if you tame me, we’ll need each other.
We’ll become each other’s one and only.”

So they start meeting at the same time every day.
“If you come at four in the afternoon,” the fox says,
“I’ll begin to feel happy at three.
And as it gets closer to four, I’ll be happier and happier.”

At last, the time to part arrives.

With tears in her eyes, the fox offers that famous secret:

“It’s the time you spent on your rose
that makes your rose so important.”

She had said something else before:

“I don’t eat bread, so wheat once meant nothing to me.
But now I love the sound of wind in the wheat,
because those golden fields will remind me of your golden hair…”

What a wise way to say goodbye.

The fox doesn’t let pain steal the scene.
She tucks a bright memory into the Little Prince’s heart instead.

From then on, a wheat field is no longer just a field of crops—
it’s a treasure chest, warm and glowing.

Life is mostly this: keep walking, and cherish what you hold while you hold it.
Every love has its meaning. Every meeting merits thanks.

Because we once loved, the wheatfields—things that had nothing to do with me—
become echoes of longing.
An ordinary rush of wind becomes a song.

Farewell doesn’t have to mean chains;
sometimes it unlocks a new way to see the world.

---

3) I’ll Keep You in My Heart and Smile at the Stars

A pilot meets the Little Prince in the Sahara.
Eight days together turns strangers into dear friends.

When the Little Prince decides to return to his tiny planet, he tells the pilot he must go.

That night, he is uncommonly sad:

“My body is too heavy. I can’t take it with me.”

The pilot understands: this is goodbye.

Before he leaves, the Little Prince gives him a parting gift:

“When you look up at night, because I will be living on one of those stars,
and because I will be laughing there,
it will be as if all the stars are laughing for you.
You, my friend, will have stars that laugh.”

After the Little Prince disappears, the pilot never finds him again.

But from that night on, whenever the sky darkens and the pilot looks up, he smiles—
because he knows that somewhere, on some star, the Little Prince is happy.

Perhaps that’s the highest form of parting:

Tuck the other person safely into your heart,
and let longing turn to starlight.

The stars become vessels of memory, witnesses to friendship.
Separation is no longer a dead end,
but another way to stay companioned.

Hemingway wrote in The Old Man and the Sea:
“A man can be destroyed but not defeated.”

So it is with love: a chapter can close,
but the good in it does not lose.

Say goodbye—then store the best of one another away,
and go on living with a smile.

Let each of you be the other’s star that never goes out.

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A Note to End On

All good things must end.

And the best endings happen in warmth.

Graceful farewells are the ones that, years later, still fill us with gratitude.

The Stoics might put it this way:
some arrivals are chance, departures are inevitable;
do what’s yours to do, and make peace with the rest.

May we all:

— when it’s time to let go, feel the breeze at our backs;
— when we look over our shoulders, find the years full and thrumming;
— after goodbye, carry love kindly;
— and keep walking toward brighter days.