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I had a cousin once who studied trigonometry until his whiskers drooped, and when he had learnt it all, a Groke came and ate him up.
The Joxter, from the novel Moominpappa’s Memoirs, written by Tove Jansson.-
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I really love it how they talk about death in these books. It’s such a nonchalant attitude like “oh well, shit happens.”
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