But words are things, and a small drop of ink, falling like dew, upon a thought produces that which makes thousands, perhaps millions, think; 'Tis strange, the shortest letter which man uses instead of speech, may form a lasting link of ages; to what straits old time reduces frail man, when paper - even a rag like this - , survives himself, his tomb, and all that's his. --from Don Juan --by Lord Byron