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