We have all seen it — black, magic marker penmanship scrawled across a door, damaging an otherwise clean slate. Names, places, dates, hearts and smiley faces provide enough reading material for an entire afternoon. First names only, we know who is in love, who hates love and who is going to get into art school based on their artistic skills with a Sharpie. Often a perfectionist — employees looking to clean up the soap opera graffiti — will attempt to scour the door or wall with a cleaner. Usually they just create a ugly swirl of black magic marker.

Locations that start with a “G” — gas stations and grocery stores — are prime real estate for graffiti. But not bookstores, especially not large bookstores with a popular coffee shop, millions of books and magazines and impressive stationary sets. A chain bookstore should be a safe haven from Sharpies and big fat magic markers only used for yard sale signs in the summer. And for the most part, this particular bookstore was free from traditional artwork. Except for a tiny line of ink. I almost missed the tiny blurb on the impressive wall of creamy beige tile. Bathroom graffiti in a bookstore? Surely not, I thought. Upon closer inspection, the imperfection became a sentence with two quotation marks and a ending period. I became even more interested because I had never seen correct grammar associated with the destruction of property. The sentence, wrote in perfect print, no loopy cursive writing or bubble letters, said “A look is the fire itself.”

It seemed rather fitting, if not odd, to find a random line of poetry on a bathroom wall. But considering the location — a gold mine of prose and poetry — I decided the author of the sentence must be a sentimental soul, with a wild side. Because I am attracted to books, poetry and words (even those written on a wall by strangers), I copied the sentence in a small notebook. I wanted to share the line of poetry with my friend, who was waiting at the front of the store. But more importantly, a tiny line of poetry on a perfectly smooth wall seemed out of place and struck a desire to remember the discovery. It had a cool factor.

As a former college English major, I love taking literature and trying to interpret an author’s intentions. I am fascinated by metaphors, similes and allusions. More than anything, I like the way men and women can find different meanings based on their understanding of the words combined with their influences and backgrounds. It doesn’t take an English degree to find meaning in words, books and poetry. Once a line is read, comprehension seeps into the mind. Some choose to dig deeper; others process the line and move on to something new. Teenagers find solace in music lyrics, while adults choose fiction and non-fiction books. Newspapers, magazines and even the back of cereal boxes can cause a person to sit back and think. From world politics to nutritional information, the information sinks into the mind. All it takes is a sentence — no matter where it is found, even on a wall. But I didn’t stop with just copying down the obscure line. I dug deeper into the mystery.

Mark Twain would be interested to know the second half of a sentence from his book “A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court” is written on a bathroom wall in a popular bookstore. I read the book in college, but I admit I didn’t recognize the phrase until I typed it into a search engine. The entire phrase — from chapter 35 — states “Words are only painted fire, a look is the fire itself.” Written in 1889, the book is about a 19th century man who time travels back to medieval times. Since then, the story has been reproduced for the stage, television — Bugs Bunny starred in the 1979 TV special — and in Walt Disney movies. And now, it has been reproduced on a bathroom wall.

I believe Twain would find the situation funny. My encounter with a random line of poetry turned out to be half of a sentence from one of the most famous writers in literature. Out of all the sentences in the book, why did the person — I assume a woman — pick just half of the quote? And why this phrase? This book? Why Mark Twain? I might have solved half of the mystery, but the rest belongs a secret. It will stay with the cool factor and the discovery of American Literature bathroom grafitti .

Jamie Parsell is the lifestyle editor of the Daily Telegraph. Contact her at jparsell@bdtonline.com.