Quotes

A person can find anything if he takes the time, that is, if he can afford to look. And while he's looking, he's free, and he finds things he never expected.

One summer morning at sunrise a long time ago, I met a little girl with a book under her arm. I asked her why she was out so early and she answered that there were too many books and far too little time. And there, she was absolutely right.

Do not tire, never lose interest, never grow indifferent - lose your invaluable curiosity and you let yourself die. It's as simple as that.

You must go on a long journey before you can really find out how wonderful home is.

I only want to live in peace, plant potatoes and dream!

I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know. Twilight is the border between day and night, and the shore is the border between sea and land. The border is longing: when both have fallen in love but still haven't said anything. The border is to be on the way. It is the way that is the most important thing.

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.

A theatre is the most important sort of house in the world, because that's where people are shown what they could be if they wanted, and what they'd like to be if they dared to and what they really are.

Lie on the bridge and watch the water flowing past. Or run, or wade through the swamp in your red boots. Or roll yourself up and listen to the rain falling on the roof. It's very easy to enjoy yourself.

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

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. Then the cold and the storms and the darkness can do their worst. They can grope their way up the walls looking for a way in, but they won't find one, everything is shut, and you sit inside, laughing in your warmth and your solitude, for you have had foresight.

It's always like this in adventures: to save and be saved. I wish somebody would write a story sometime about the people who warm up the heroes afterward.

The thing about God is that He usually does help, but not until you've made an effort on your own.

Someone who eats pancakes and jam can't be so awfully dangerous. You can talk to him.

There's no need to imagine that you're a wondrous beauty, because that's what you are.

I just look at things, 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.

Why do you smile all the time? Because I am looking at you.

There are those who stay and others who leave, there has always been. Everyone is allowed to choose for themselves, but must be chosen in a timely manner and must never give up.

It's funny about paths and rivers. You see them go by, and suddenly you feel upset and want to be somewhere else - wherever the path or the river is going, perhaps.

One makes a trip by day, but by night one sets out on a journey.

Smell is important. It reminds a person of all the things he's been through; it is a sheath of memories and security.

One has to discover everything for oneself. And get over it all alone.

I want your first trip to be with me. I want to show you cities and landscapes and teach you how to look at things in new ways and how to get along in places you don't already know inside out. I want to put some life in you.

Christmas always rustled. It rustled every time, mysteriously, with silver and gold paper, tissue paper and a rich abundance of shiny paper, decorating and hiding everything and giving a feeling of reckless extravagance.

Most of the people are homesick anyway, and a little lonely, and they hide themselves in their hair and are turned into flowers.

Maybe my passion is nothing special, but at least it's mine.

Even potted plants got to be a responsibility, like everything else you took care of that couldn't make decisions for itself.

I'm not sure I would have ever started to draw, let alone write, if my childhood hadn't been so happy. It was a mixture of comfort and adventure. An excellent mixture!

On death: It was too bad you could never have an intelligent discussion on the subject. People were either too young or too old, or else they didn't have time.

A boat by night is a wonderful sight. This is the way to start a new life, with a hurricane lamp shining at the top of the mast, and the coastline disappearing behind one as the whole world lies sleeping. Making a journey by night is more wonderful than anything in the world.

One ought to have the right to have a secret and to spring it as a surprise. But if you live inside a family you have neither.

It's strange. 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.

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.

Sometimes people never saw things clearly until it was too late and they no longer had the strength to start again. Or else they forgot their idea along the way and didn't even realise that they forgotten.

Every wave that dies on the beach sings a little song to a shell. But you mustn't go inside because it's a labyrinth and you may never come out again.

We'll always keep our bangles in brown pond water in the future. They're so much more beautiful that way.

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.

Everyone must imagine his own snakes because no one else's snakes can ever be as awful.

Soon I must set out again. But not yet.

Sometimes people are very predictable: they want a kitten in June, for example, and come the first of September they want someone to drown their cat. But other times, people have dreams and things they want they can keep.

People carry their loved ones with them. They are forever present, and life is full of easily grasped opportunities to show them one's affection. It costs so little and achieves so much.

Strange that it will all just go on, we will paint, travel, love, grieve, collect money, buy things, grow old... whether we want to or not.

It's a pity that exciting things always stop happening when you're not afraid of them anymore and would like to have a little fun.

There is nothing sentimental about this world. Like the weather, this world asks only to be acknowledged. There is nothing comforting about it, and yet if you are afraid to see it in its own terms and look to it for comfort, for solace, you will be left worse off than you were before.

On birds: no other creature had the same dramatic capacity to underline and perfect events – the shifts in the seasons and the weather, the changes that run through people themselves.

Silence settles around us, each of us wanders his own way, and yet we all meet by the sea in the peaceful sunset.

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

Tonight I'm alone with my tune, and tonight isn't tomorrow.

I like small adventures. Just the right size.

I wish I was more Moomin-minded.