When one's dead, one's dead... This squirrel will become earth all in his time. And still later on, there'll grow new trees from him, with new squirrels skipping about in them. Do you think that's so very sad? — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
All men are chums who will never leave each other in the lurch. A chum doesn't forgive, he just forgets - women forgive everything but never forget. Being forgiven is very unpleasant. — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
I'm not sure I would have ever started to draw, let alone write, if my childhood hadn't been so happy. It was a mixture… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
“The star we're looking for isn't so very friendly," said Moomintroll. "Quite the contrary, in fact." "What did you say?" said Sniff. Moomintroll went… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
It looks rather ordinary," said the Snork. "Unless you consider that a top hat is always somewhat extraordinary, of course. — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
“But Moominpappa wasn't listening, because just at that moment he had got the right grip on a big round boulder, and with a great… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
Everyone must imagine his own snakes because no one else's snakes can ever be as awful. — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
All men have parties and are pals who never let each other down. A pal can say terrible things which are forgotten the next… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
Someone who eats pancakes and jam can't be so awfully dangerous. You can talk to him. — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
“I cannot stress enough the perils of your friends marrying or becoming court inventors. One day you are all a society of outlaws, adventurous… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
“Sophia," she said, "this is really not something to argue about. You can see for yourself that life is hard enough without being punished… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
Before we left, Grandmother talked a lot about the arctic night we would fly through. 'Isn't it a mystical word, "arctic"? Pure and quite… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
It is still summer, but the summer is no longer alive. It has come to a standstill; nothing withers, and fall is not ready… — Tove Jansson Copy Share Image
