‘If you’re sore, you’re sore,’ observed Little My, peeling her potatoes with her teeth. ‘You have to be angry sometimes. Every little creep has a right to be angry.’

The Hemulen woke up slowly and recognised himself and wished he had been someone he didn’t know.

The faint whisper of rain and running water was still there and it had the same tender note of solitude and perfection. But what did the rain mean to him as long as he couldn’t write a song about it

“Making a journey by night is more wonderful than anything in the world.”

Quite, quite,’ she thought with a little sigh. ‘It’s always like this in their adventures. To save and be saved. I wish somebody would write a story sometime about the people who warm up the heroes afterward.

Snorkmaiden stood with her ears drooping. Moomintroll pressed his snout against hers and said, “There’s no need to pretend that you are radiantly beautiful, because you are. Don’t worry, we can play ‘damsel in distress’ tomorrow instead.”

Milly old souse yourself! retorted Thingumy and Bob, who were seriously upset by this. Oh! So they are foreigners, thought Sniff. I’d better fetch moominmamma

All around him there were people living slipshod and aimless lives, wherever he looked there was something to be put to rights and he worked his fingers to the bone trying to get them to see how they ought to live

It is simply this: do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent—lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It’s as simple as that.

Tove Jansson, from the book Fair Play