It's Risky To Talk About One's Most

When Mats Came In The Evenings, They Would Drink Tea In The Kitchen While Reading Their Books And Talking About Them. If Katri Came In, They Were Quiet And Waited For Her To Leave. The Back Door Would Close, And Katri Would Have Gone. “does Your Sister Read Our Books?” Anna Wanted To Know. “no. She Reads Literature.

It Is Still Summer, But The Summer Is No Longer Alive. It Has Come To A Standstill; Nothing Withers, And Fall Is Not Ready To Begin. There Are No Stars Yet, Just Darkness.

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.

All Things Are So Very Uncertain, And That's Exactly What Makes Me Feel Reassured.

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.