Everything’s much too big here,’ thought Moominmamma. ‘Or perhaps I’m too small.

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.

It’s strange, Moominmamma thought. Strange that people can be sad, and even angry because life is too easy. But that’s the way it is, I suppose. The only thing to do is to start life afresh.

But that’s how it is when you start wanting to have things. Now, I just look at them, and when I go away I carry them in my head. Then my hands are always free, because I don’t have to carry a suitcase.

Gathering is peculiar, because you see nothing but what you’re looking for. If you’re picking raspberries, you see only what’s red, and if you’re looking for bones you see only the white. No matter where you go, the only thing you see is bones.

The quiet transition from autumn to winter is not a bad time at all. It’s a time for protecting and securing things and for making sure you’ve got in as many supplies as you can. It’s nice to gather together everything you possess as close to you as possible, to store up your warmth and your thoughts and burrow yourself into a deep hole inside, a core of safety where you can defend what is important and precious and your very own.

“No dishes to wash today. Perhaps I will never ever have to wash them again.”

Welcome home, Moomin, safe and sound, and welcome, friends! Come gather around!

But think how lonely the Groke is, since nobody likes her and she doesn’t like anyone either.

He could only just hear the barrel organ playing in the farthest corner of the valley, if he listened very closely.
Moomintroll looked down into the water and tried to remember the time when the ice had stretched away and melted into the darkness of the horizon.

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?

“Moominpappa missed his family and his veranda. He suddenly got the feeling that only there could he be as free and as adventurous as a good father should be.”

‘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.’

But that’s how it is when you start wanting to have things. Now, I just look at them, and when I go away I carry them in my head. Then my hands are always free, because I don’t have to carry a suitcase.