Having recently seen The Lady in the Van (three times!) I was reminded of how much I have enjoyed the work of Alan Bennett over the years—which led me to his Untold Stories, published in 2005. In a section on “Art, Architecture and Authors” he writes:
“Sometimes when one’s reading a book, a novel say, you come across a thought or a feeling, which you’ve had yourself, and, thinking it peculiar to yourself, you haven’t expressed or communicated it…and now here it is set down by someone else. And it’s as if a hand has come out and taken yours.”

Doesn’t happen to me often, but often enough for Bennett’s words to strike home. I will sometimes be struck by a thought or use of language that makes me pause, reread, sometimes record, and always savor the moment. What I’m Reading.