The number I'd always assumed for my own reading speed turned out to be off by a wide margin.
The gap on the calendar below has an explanation, of a kind, and it isn't a dramatic one.
A short note on the specific despair of the unfinished middle, and why it is not, in fact, useful evidence of anything.
No organizing theme, on purpose — just the passages that stayed, copied out roughly as Locke would have wanted.
A partial, embarrassing inventory of the systems I've adopted and abandoned, and what finally worked instead.
Underline, marginal note, and dog-ear each record a different kind of reaction — and I keep forgetting that.