If you divide the world into them and us, and history into ours and theirs, or if you think of history as something only you and your affiliates possess, then no matter what you know, no matter how noble your intentions, you have taken one step toward the destruction of the world.

Typography is the craft of endowing human language with a durable visual form, and thus with an independent existence. Its heartwood is calligraphy - the dance, on a tiny stage, of the living, speaking hand - and its roots reach into living soil, though its branches may be hung each year with new machines. So long as the root lives, typography remains a source of true delight, true knowledge, true surprise.

When you die, your culture takes you in, and then, if you've given enough, your place is near the centre.

Nature, or the world, or reality, is what mythology is all about.

Typographic style is founded not on any one technology of typesetting or printing, but on the primitive yet subtle craft of writing.

Wings are a constraint that makes it possible to fly.

Typography is to literature as musical performance is to composition: an essential act of interpretation, full of endless opportunities for insight or obtuseness.