Quotes from Tove Jansson

a person can also find solitude with others, though it is more difficult

You sentimentalise them because they're little," she said. "But the format doesn't matter. I have gradually learned that everyone, absolutely everyone of every size, is out to get something. People want things. It comes to them naturally. Of course they get more skilful with age, and they're no longer so disarmingly obvious, but the goal doesn't change. Your children simply haven't had time to learn how it's done. That's what we call innocence.

Det är underligt med kärlek, sa Sophia. Ju mer man älskar den andra dess mindre tycker den andra om en. Det är alldeles riktigt, anmärkte farmorn. Och vad gör man då? Man fortsätter att älska, svarade Sophia hotfullt. Man älskar värre och värre.

How does one get famous?" the Joxter asked. "Oh, just by doing something that nobody else has been able to do.

You believe it's cold, but if you build yourself a snowhouse it's warm. You think it's white, but at times it looks pink, and another time it's blue. It can be softer than anything, and then again harder than stone. Nothing is certain.

Det er snølyset," sa hun. "Alt blir pent i snølys.

The Dweller Under the Sink had still not come out to eat but was probably living a secret and important life by himself.

Ingen ting kan være så rolig og så uendelig som et langt vitermørke, det fortsetter og fortsetter, det er som å leve i en tunnel der mørket stundom fordyper seg til natt og stundom blir dagskumring, man er avskjermet fra alt, beskyttet og mer ensom enn ellers.

og forresten er vel alle og enhver ulykkelig på sin egen måte, og det skulle jeg tro de har rett til!

Dear Gaffsie, believe me, we are so very small and insignificant, and so are our tea cakes and carpets and all those things, you know, and still they're so important, but always they're threatened by mercilessness.

She had picked the spot the day before and carried out a stool low enough to sit on and still have her paintbox and her water cup within reach. Anna didn't use an easel. Easels seemed to her an altogether too assertive aid, too obvious. She liked to work as unobtrusively as possible, the paper spread on a board in her lap, close to her hand.

Oh, Anna Aemelin, the only thing you care about is your own conscience. That's what you cherish. You're a charming little liar.

In my opinion, one should always make the most out of an awful situation

Moominmamma scooped up a handful of snow and made a snowball. She threw it clumsily as mothers do, and it plopped to the ground not very far away. 'I'm no good at that,' said Moominmamma with a laugh. 'Even Sorry-oo would have made a better throw.' 'Mother, I love you terribly,' said Moomintroll.

Neither one of the two friends felt any great need of talking. As yet. They had time; summer lay before them, long and full of promises.

Minun mielestäni ainoa, joka tästä lähtien voi asua siellä, on Tuu-tikki itse, sanoi Muumipeikon äiti. -Ja sitä paitsi uimahuone on aika porvarillinen laitos. Uimahousut voi aivan yhtä hyvin pukea ylleen rantahiekalla.

How nice to be on your own for a bit and do what you like.

Can you win anything better than the useless rewards of a fantastical imagination?

Alexander was in the grip of a passion for perfection. He was not aware of how closely, how perilously, perfectionism and fanaticism are related.

Passion. As you can see, I've lived quite a long time, which is to say I've been working for quite a long time, which is the same thing. And you know what? In the whole silly business, the only thing that really matters is passion. It comes and it goes. At first it just comes to you free of charge, and you don't understand, and you waste it. And then it becomes a thing to nurture.

But Moominmamma was quite unperturbed. "Well, well!" she said, "it seems to me that our guests are having a very good time." "I hope so," replied Moominpappa. "Pass me a banana, please dear.

I'm not a lion...I like small adventures. Just the right size.

Sniff looked at them and noticed that they were much smaller than he was, so he felt kinder and said, condescendingly. "Hullo. Nice to see you.

Oh say, where lies true lasting happiness? In evening rest? In friendly glance? 'Tis more: In sailing from the mire, the reeds, the mast, The mighty ocean's vastness to adore. Oh what is life? 'Tis nothing but a dream, A vast and enigmatic flowing stream. Such tender feelings fill my heaving breast I know not how or where they'll come to rest; My cares are multitudinous and sore, I long to feel the friendly rudder in my paw.