It’s Strange,” Moominmamma Thought. “strange That People

When Mats Came In The Evenings, They Would Drink Tea In The Kitchen While Reading Their Books And Talking About Them. If Katri Came In, They Were Quiet And Waited For Her To Leave. The Back Door Would Close, And Katri Would Have Gone. “does Your Sister Read Our Books?” Anna Wanted To Know. “no. She Reads Literature.

I'll Have To Calm Down A Bit. Or Else I'll Burst With Happiness

Smell Is Important. It Reminds A Person Of All The Things He's Been Through; It Is A Sheath Of Memories And Security.

There Are Such A Lot Of Things That Have No Place In Summer And Autumn And Spring. Everything That’s A Little Shy And A Little Rum. Some Kinds Of Night Animals And People That Don’t Fit In With Others And That Nobody Really Believes In. They Keep Out Of The Way All The Year. And Then When Everything’s Quiet And White And The Nights Are Long And Most People Are Asleep—then They Appear.

One Summer Morning At Sunrise A Long Time Ago I Met A Little Girl With A Book Under Her Arm. I Asked Her Why She Was Out So Early And She Answered That There Were Too Many Books And Far Too Little Time. And There She Was Absolutely Right.