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 on waves of sound,
Not to vary with the writer’s hand
But fixed in time,
Having been verified by proof.
Friend, you stand on sacred ground,
This is a Printing Office.
-Beatrice L. Warde, ca. 1932
American scholar, writer, and typographer
All hail Bon Homme Richard! (click here for weather report)
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