We're having a garage sale next weekend, and I'm trying to be ruthless in getting rid of lots of books (among other things). I found a copy of Colin Wilson's "The Occult" that I would have been reading at some point in my twenties, complete with weathered little pieces of paper used as markers, and bearing notes.
Notes! I used to take notes when I read, even when I wasn't reading for a class? Impressive. Those were the days.