I absolutely love that feeling. The thrill of parting the veil between our time and another and looking into some dead person's eyes and really seeing them as a

I absolutely love that feeling. The thrill of parting the veil between our time and another and looking into some dead person's eyes and really seeing them as a fellow human. Another favorite is the diary of Samuel Pepys. It's just so touching human and specific. Like when the Great Fire of London breaks out and he desperately tries to save the parmesan cheese he bought on his vacation in Italy: The fire coming on in that narrow streete, on both sides, with infinite fury. Sir W. Batten not knowing how to remove his wine, did dig a pit in the garden, and laid it in there; and I took the opportunity of laying all the papers of my office that I could not otherwise dispose of. And in the evening Sir W. Pen and I did dig another, and put our wine in it; and I my Parmazan cheese... Mrs. Turner and her husband supped with my wife and I at night, in the office; upon a shoulder of mutton from the cook’s, without any napkin or any thing, in a sad manner, but were merry. Only now and then walking into the garden, and saw how horridly the sky looks, all on a fire in the night, was enough to put us out of our wits; and, indeed, it was extremely dreadful, for it looks just as if it was at us; and the whole heaven on fire. http://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/1666/09/04/ http://www.pepysdiary.com/diary/1666/09/04/