Socrates: Writing, you know, Phaedrus, has this
strange quality about it,
which makes it really like painting: the painter's
products stand before us
quite as though they were alive; but if you question
them, they maintain a solemn silence.
So, too, with written words: you might think they
spoke as though they made sense,
but if you ask them anything about what they are
saying, if you wish an explanation,
they go on telling you the same thing, over and over
forever. Once a thing is put in writing,
it rolls about all over the place, falling into the
hands of those who have no concern with it
just as easily as under the notice of those who
comprehend;
it has no notion of whom to address or whom to avoid.
And when it is ill-treated or abused as illegitimate,
it always needs its father to help it,
being quite unable to protect or help itself.
Plato (427-347 BC) in Phaedrus.
