My Bag Was As Light As My

They Were Always Doing Something. Quietly, Without Interruption, And With Great Concentration, They Carried On With The Hundred-and-one Small Things That Made Up Their World.

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.

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.

He Was The Owner Of The Moonlight On The Ground, He Fell In Love With The Most Beautiful Of The Trees, He Made Wreaths Of Leaves And Strung Them Around His Neck.

The Hemulen Woke Up Slowly And Recognised Himself And Wished He Had Been Someone He Didn't Know.