Anthropology Found Its Galileo In Rivers, Its

The Order And Harmony Of The Western World, Its Most Famous Achievement, And A Laboratory In Which Structures Of A Complexity As Yet Unknown Are Being Fashioned, Demand The Elimination Of A Prodigious Mass Of Noxious By-products Which Now Contaminate The Globe. The First Thing We See As We Travel Round The World Is Our Own Filth, Thrown Into The Face Of Mankind.

The Anthropologist Respects History, But He Does Not Accord It A Special Value. He Conceives It As A Study Complementary To His Own: One Of Them Unfurls The Range Of Human Societies In Time, The Other In Space.

In The Old Days, People Used To Risk Their Lives In India Or In The Americas In Order To Bring Back Products Which Now Seem To Us To Have Been Of Comically Little Worth, Such As Brazilwood And Pepper, Which Added A New Range Of Sense Experience To A Civilization Which Had Never Suspected Its Own Insipidity... From These Same Lands Our Modern Marco Polos Now Bring Back The Moral Spices Of Which Our Society Feels An Increasing Need As It Is Conscious Of Sinking Further Into Boredom, But That This Time They Take The Form Of Photographs, Books, And Travelers Tales.

With All Its Technical Sophistication, The Photographic Camera Remains A Coarse Device Compared To The Human Hand And Brain.

The Musical Emotion Springs Precisely From The Fact That At Each Moment The Composer Withholds Or Adds More Or Less Than The Listener Anticipates On The Basis Of A Pattern That He Thinks He Can Guess, But That He Is Incapable Of Wholly Divining. . . .