"All grown-ups were once children. . ."

Received a Christmas delivery from Los Angeles, where someone special resides.  Included was a gift to a child.  In the author's foreward, he writes,

". . . I will dedicate the book to the child from whom this grown-up grew.  All grown-ups were once children--although few of them remember it . . ."

And a passage:

"I am thirsty for this water," said the little prince. "Give me some of it to drink..."

And I understood what he had been looking for.

I raised the bucket to his lips. He drank, his eyes closed. It was as sweet as some special festival treat. This water was indeed a different thing from ordinary nourishment. Its sweetness was born of the walk under the stars, the song of the pulley, the effort of my arms. It was good for the heart, like a present.  When I was a little boy, the lights of the Christmas tree, the music of the Midnight Mass, the tenderness of smiling faces, used to make up so, the radiance of the gifts I received."

What a very special book.