Every book you finish hands you new ways to describe what’s happening inside your own head.

Half the value of reading is recognition. Someone you have never met describes a state you assumed was private, and suddenly there is language for what had only been a sensation, which makes it something you can think about rather than only endure. The book did not hand you the feeling. It handed you a grip on one you already had.

Mark the lines that stop you because they are accurate about you. Copy them somewhere. When something is hard to explain to a friend, look through what you collected, since someone has probably already built the sentence.