Few little things give me as disproportionate an amount of pleasure as finding notes–commentary, poetry, or fiction–that I have left in my books and have since forgotten, only to be discovered by a future self. Came across this one in Walker Percy’s Signposts in a Strange Land this morning:

The lady kept staring at me as if she hoped that, at any moment, I would turn into somebody she once loved.

Now if I could only figure out what in Percy’s collection of essays prompted me to pen that.