Cornell Note Taking Notebooks Novels & Stories

Thursday brings the larger notebook. It arrives by post, a proper package, carefully wrapped, the specific care of someone who ordered something important and wanted it to arrive intact. Théo opens it at the communal table after breakfast with the focused attention he gives all things that matter, removing the wrapping without tearing it, which is a habit that Celeste told me he has had since childhood and which she considers evidence of a temperament that respects the effort behind things. The notebook is dark green, larger than the previous ones, with a heavier cover and pages that are thick enough to absorb both ink and pressure without bleeding through. He opens it. He runs his hand acro

Its leather cover was cracked with age. Across the front, embossed in fading gold letters, were two initials. C.B. Rebecca's breath caught. "My mother's?" Ava nodded. "Daniel said it belonged to Claire." Rebecca carefully opened the notebook. Most pages contained chemical formulas. Research notes. Sketches. Measurements. Then, halfway through... The handwriting changed. Scientific notes gave way to journal entries. Personal thoughts. Claire's private diary had been hidden inside her research notebook all along. Rebecca began reading.

CHAPTER NINETY-SEVEN: -- Tyler had the thoughts of just burning the notebook down to ashes after he wrote those things on it. He was planning on just taking a pic of it or just write another one on his phone, but Dave insisted that he must use paper and pen to take notes. He said it’s better that way since paper notes are easy to remember than those written in the computers. He gave it a deep thought before agreeing. He wasn’t wrong, handwritten notes are better than those notes that were typed. Besides, nothing will happen that need to be anxious about, right? It’s not as if anyone will see the notes, right?

The four friends had claimed a large wooden table in the corner, surrounded by towering shelves filled with ancient tomes and modern textbooks alike. Charlie flipped through her notes, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Okay, so we need to focus on the key events of the last century for history, and we need to focus on chapter 7 in lunar cycles and we should be ready for both exams.” she said, tapping her pencil against her notebook.

Nothing could bring Catherine back. The notebooks had been neatly labeled by month and year, which made them easy enough to locate. There were two of them, both with dark green covers, their mottled spines worn where silverfish had chewed away at the edges. I carried them downstairs to the study, switched on the light, and began to read. The pages were A4, ruled with precision, each entry marked with the date and time in the margin. Assessment details, observations, medical notes—everything carefully recorded.

I guess I could get a good enough view of her there… Oh gosh, Anya, that’s so gross. I just shake off the thought and decide to unroll the bag. As I do so, I stumble upon something. I look below me and near my right knee is Sadie’s notebook, slightly ajar. I took them and lay them on the side so I could straighten the sleeping bag. After that, I went back to my place, taking the notebook with me. It is a medium-sized hardbound notebook. It is coated in black but there are a few statements written in what seems like a cut-out white paper taped on the hardbound. Some words have exclamation points, question marks, swear words written in all uppercase, and other words like Shh!, Quiet! It’s Not

My friend had done a good job putting the library together, organizing the books by subject, with like topics together on each shelf just as I’d requested. I had also ordered several journals and notebooks for note-taking. These were stacked in a tidy pile on the top shelf. I selected a black suede journal and took it to bed, where I eased myself into a comfortable position. It was crazy how little activity it required, this week, to make me desperate to get my feet elevated. “Okay,” I said, flipping open to the journal’s first page and compulsively writing today’s date in the upper right corner. “I’m making notes about questions to ask her, before she and I meet back up to talk about the ca

The knowing saw. Don wrote this in the notebook. The notebook was the small black one he carried on walks—the one that had replaced the previous small black notebook, which had filled up and been retired to the study, where it sat on the shelf with the other filled notebooks from the thirty-two years. The accumulation of notebooks. The accumulation of observations. The accumulation of the seeing.

a spiral-bound notebook? With exaggerated care, as if handling some priceless artifact, Caleb set the notebook on the table before her. Lila recognized it instantly - the very same journal he'd commandeered during their last confrontation, now being returned of his own volition. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, darting between the proffered item and Caleb's unreadable expression as she tried to divine the trap surely hidden within this unexpected olive branch. But Caleb merely nudged the notebook closer, then withdrew a pen from his jacket pocket. With deliberate movements, he flipped open to a blank page and began to write. Lila watched, mystified, as his meaty hand laboriously traced out a

It seems to be something quite important to her. “Yay! Here it is!!! I finally found it.” Anna took a notebook with a black cover. The outside was covered with a leather cloth, and although the edge of the cover was worn but visible, this notebook was very well preserved. Flipping the first few pages, Anna happily read the contents of the notebook written by hand. At a glance, all seemed to be formulas and some sample solutions for math. Anna put the old notebook on the table, took the pink paper that had been straightened, and read the topic on it again.