Thus, up until Gutenburg, architecture was the chief, the universal form of writing. [...] In its printed form, thought is more imperishable than ever; it is volatile, elusive, indestructible. It mingles with the air. In the days of architecture, thought had turned into a mountain and took powerful hold of a century and of a place. Now it turned into a flock of birds and was scattered on the four winds, occupying every point of air and space simultaneously.Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame of Paris (1831) (London: Peguin, 1978), 194; 196.
