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“Hattifatteners," Hodgkins said. "Electrical sailing." "Hattifatteners," I whispered excitedly. "Traveling and traveling and never getting there..." "Thunderstorms charge them," Hodgkins said. "Sting like nettles." "And they live a wicked life," the Joxter informed. "A wicked life?" I repeated with interest. "How?" "I don't quite know," said the Joxter. "Trampling down people's gardens and drinking beer, and so on, I suppose." We sat there for a long time looking after the Hattifatteners sailing out toward the horizon. I felt a strange desire to join them on their voyage and share their wicked life. But I didn't say it.” — Tove Jansson
Hattifatteners," Hodgkins said. "Electrical sailing."
"Hattifatteners," I whispered excitedly. "Traveling and traveling and never getting there..."
"Thunderstorms charge them," Hodgkins said. "Sting like nettles."
"And they live a wicked life," the Joxter informed.
"A wicked life?" I repeated with interest. "How?"
"I don't quite know," said the Joxter. "Trampling down people's gardens and drinking beer, and so on, I suppose."
We sat there for a long time looking after the Hattifatteners sailing out toward the horizon. I felt a strange desire to join them on their voyage and share their wicked life. But I didn't say it.