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.

‘I’m frightened’, whispered the smallest little one, pulling on Snufkin’s sleeve.
‘Keep hold of me. Everything will be all right,’ comforted Snufkin.
‘It’s all over now, Sniff’ said Snufkin. ‘Don’t cry, dear friend.’

Just think, never to be glad or disappointed. Never to like anyone and get cross at him and forgive him. Never to sleep or feel cold, never to make a mistake and have a stomach-ache and be cured from it, never to have a birthday party, drink beer, and have a bad conscience…

How terrible.

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

I like stars more than anything else. I watch them as I fall asleep and wonder who lives on them and how to get there. The night sky looks so friendly with all those little twinkling eyes.

‘Tonight is the night for a song,’ thought Snufkin. ‘I’ll think up a new song that is one part anticipation, two parts pining for spring, and the rest a joyous declaration of how wonderful it is to be alone and at peace with yourself.’

Easy now! It might be whisky!

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

I knew nothing, but I believed a lot.

You are like Diana, Moomintroll said admiringly.
– Who is she? asked the Snorkmaiden, obviously flattered
– She was the goddess of hunting, explained Moomintroll.
As beautiful as the Wooden Queen and just as clever as you.

“Hope for the best and prepare for the worst.”

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.

The very last house stood all by itself under a dark green wall of fir-trees, and here the wild country really began. Snufkin walked faster and faster straight into the forest. Then the door of the last house opened a chink and a very old voice cried: ‘Where are you off to?’
‘I don’t know,’ Snufkin replied.
The door shut again and Snufkin entered his forest, with a hundred miles of silence ahead of him.

At times he thought he could clearly see the trail that Snufkin had made on the sodden ground. The tracks skipped and danced here and there, and were difficult to follow. On occasion they took great leaps and even crossed paths. “He must have been feeling quite happy,” thought Moomintroll. “I believe that right here he has even done a somersault.

“What is it?” said Moomintroll. Discoveries were his very favourite thing (after mysterious paths, swimming and secrets, that is).