I don't know why I keep getting ahead of myself with these past-reviews, but here's another one. Anna was a little girl found abandoned on the streets of London and taken in by a fellow who calls himself Fynn, and his mother. The first two Anna books (on my shelf, easily accessible so I'll write about them later, probably after an enjoyable re-read) are collections of incidents revolving around Anna and the funny, curious and insightful things she would say. I loved those two books, and couldn't believe it when I found this one as well. Apparently Fynn kept a box full of Anna's own drawings and writings, and he later complied them into this book (she died young). If you ever wanted a look directly into the mind of a child, this is a delightful one. Anna's words (which charmingly, but also sometimes confusingly, include her prolific misspellings) describe her thoughts and feelings on various emotions (love and tears I remember in particular), God, kindness, her vague memories of her mother, and her own self. Some are endearingly silly stories she made up herself. They have the quaint, yet sometimes surprisingly wise perspective of a child. Anna's simple little stories and insights make me pause and think again.