The hemulen woke up slowly and recognised himself and wished he had been someone he didn't know.

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.

He didn't remember, he didn't worry, he just was.

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

I don't want to hear about them any more. I could vomit on the Moomintrolls.

I love borders. August is the border between summer and autumn; it is the most beautiful month I know.

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!