Crossroads of civilization. Refuge of all the arts against the ravages of time. Armory of fearless truth against whispering rumor. Incessant trumpet of trade. From this place words may fly abroad not to perish as waves of sound, but fixed in time. Not corrupted by hurrying hand but verified in proof.

Friends, you stand on sacred ground: This is a print shop [blog].*

Beatrice Warde