They continued the following evening under the heading “Other Pitiful Animals.”
“Small animals are a great problem. I wish God had never created small animals, or else that He had made them so they could talk, or else that He’d given them better faces. Space. Take moths. They fly at the lamp and burn themselves, and then they fly right back again. It can’t be instinct, because that isn’t the way it works. They just don’t understand, so they go right on doing it. Then they lie on their backs and all their legs quiver, and then they’re dead. Did you get all that? Does it sound good?
“Very good,” Grandmother said.
Sophia stood up and shouted, “Say this: say I hate everything that dies slow! Say I hate everything that won’t let you help! Did you write that?”
-from “Of Angleworms and Others” in The Summer Book by Tove Jansson
This book. Seriously, so good. I could type out the whole thing. Pick it up, open it at random and you’re reading some of the cleanest, most precise, innovative language I’ve read. Good, good, good, good.