“How is it possible for one to own the stars?” “To whom do they belong?” the businessman retorted, peevishly. “I don’t know. To nobody.”

“Then they belong to me, because I was the first person to think of it.” “Is that all that is necessary?” “Certainly. When you find a diamond that belongs to nobody, it is yours. When you discover an island that belongs to nobody, it is yours. When you get an idea before any one else, you take out a patent on it: it is yours. So with me: I own the stars, because nobody else before me ever thought of owning them.”

“Yes, that is true,” said the little prince. “And what do you do with them?” “I administer them,” replied the businessman. “I count them and recount them. It is difficult. But I am a man who is naturally interested in matters of consequence.”

…On matters of consequence, the little prince had ideas which were very different from those of the grown−ups. “I myself own a flower,” he continued his conversation with the businessman, “which I water every day. I own three volcanoes, which I clean out every week (for I also clean out the one that is extinct; one never knows). It is of some use to my volcanoes, and it is of some use to my flower, that I own them. But you are of no use to the stars…” The businessman opened his mouth, but he found nothing to say in answer. And the little prince went away.

The Little Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry (chapter 13)