The Summer Book

by Tove Jansson

nothing in this world is like anything else anywhere—everything in this world is exactly what it is.

Confounded children. But that’s what happens when people won’t let you do anything fun. The people who are old enough.

He was an absolutely happy cat, but he didn’t share with anyone.

When people talked about him or thought about him, it seemed natural to lift their heads and gaze out over the sea.

A person can find anything if he takes the time, that is, if he can afford to look.

That’s strange, Grandmother thought. I can’t describe things any more. I can’t find the words, or maybe it’s just that I’m not trying hard enough. It was such a long time ago. No one here was even born. And unless I tell it because I want to, it’s as if it never happened; it gets closed off and then it’s lost.

but for Grandmother, no matter what happened, it was only time on top of time,

She started thinking about all the euphemisms for death, all the anxious taboos that had always fascinated her. 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.

anything that has to be hidden is a burden.