It is the practice of many readers to note, in the margin of their
books, the most important passages, the strongest arguments, or the
brightest sentiments. Thus they load their minds with superfluous
attention, repress the vehemence of curiosity by useless deliberation,
and by frequent interruption break the current of narration or the chain
of reason, and at last close the volume, and forget the passages and
marks together.
Others I have found unalterably persuaded that nothing is certainly
remembered but what is transcribed; and they have therefore passed weeks
and months in transferring large quotations to a commonplace book. Yet,
why any part of a book, which can be consulted at pleasure, should be
copied, I was never able to discover. The hand has no closer
correspondence with the memory than the eye. The act of writing itself
distracts the thoughts, and what is read twice is commonly better
remembered than what is transcribed. This method therefore consumes time
without assisting memory.
The true art of memory is the art of attention. No man will read with
much advantage, who is not able, at pleasure, to evacuate his mind, or
who brings not to his author an intellect defecated and pure, neither
turbid with care, nor agitated by pleasure. If the repositories of
thought are already full, what can they receive? If the mind is employed
on the past or the future, the book will be held before the eyes in
vain. What is read with delight is commonly retained, because pleasure
always secures attention: but the books which are consulted by
occasional necessity, and perused with impatience, seldom leave any
traces on the mind.--S. JOHNSON. _Idler_, 74.