To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits,To report the behaviour of the sea monster,Describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry,Observe disease in signatures, evokeBiography from the wrinkles of the palmAnd tragedy from fingers; release omensBy sortilege, or tea leaves, riddle the inevitableWith playing cards, fiddle with pentagramsOr barbituric acids, or dissectThe recurrent image into pre-conscious terrors-To explore the womb, or tomb, or dreams; all these are usualPastimes and drugs, and features of the press:And always will be, some of them especiallyWhether on the shores of Asia, or in the Edgware Road,Men's curiosity searches past and futureAnd clings to that dimension. But to apprehendThe point of intersection of the timelessWith time, is an occupation for the saint—T.S. EliotFour Quartets (The Dry Salvages: V)
rad. rad. ra.
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