“Given a Moomin and a Place, there simply must follow a House. What a thrilling thought: a house of mine, built by myself. A house exclusively my own! A little farther off I found a brook and a green little glade that appeared very suitable for a Moomin. There was even a small sandy beach by a bend in the brook.

I took a stick and started to draw my house in the sand. I didn’t hesitate for a moment. I knew exactly what a Moominhouse should look like. It was high and slender and adorned with several balconies, stairs and turrets. Upstairs I made three small rooms and a closet for odds and ends, you know, but downstairs was only a single, large, magnificent drawing-room. Outside it I put a glassed-in verandah, where I was going to sit in my rocking-chair and look at the brook flowing along, with an enormous glass of juice and a long row of sandwiches by my side. The verandah balustrade was very nicely decorated with a pine-cone pattern. I adorned the pointed roof with a beautiful onion knob and decided to gild it later on. I wondered how to manage the traditional brass door, a relic from the time when all Moomins lived behind porcelain stoves (before someone went and invented central heating). I finally decided to leave out the brass door, and instead I built a large porcelain stove in the drawing-room.

The house as a whole unmistakably resembled a porcelain stove. I was enchanted by my beautiful house that had come into being with such mysterious speed. That must have been because of my inherited ability but also because of talent, sound judgement, and self-criticism. But as one should never praise one’s own achievements, I have given you only a simple description of the results.”

— Moominpappa, from Tove Jansson’s novel Moominpappa’s Memoirs

“I was born when she kissed me.

I died when she left me.

I lived a few weeks while she loved me.”