I picked a book off my shelf during the storm just now and found this delightful passage underlined:
"I count among the most wonderful moments of we can experience as human beings those in which we’re walking around thinking we’re the only ones. I’m the only one who’s ever done this dumb thing. I’m the only one who’s ever had this random set of feelings. I’m the only one who’s ever suffered in such a way. And then we happen upon a poem or a song, a movie scene, a play, a page in a book, and we see ourselves. It’s as if the writer had stolen the thoughts directly from the dusty shelves in our minds or he or she had ripped the seemingly unique events from our vulnerable memories. The writer whispers, "It’s okay. Me too." It is a satisfying moment when you realize you’re not the only who thinks orange juice tastes funny after you brush your teeth. We collectively breathe a sigh of relief when we realize we are not alone in our thoughts, words, or deeds.""