I Hate Travelling And Explorers

Civilization Has Ceased To Be That Delicate Flower Which Was Preserved And Painstakingly Cultivated In One Or Two Sheltered Areas Of A Soil Rich In Wild Species ... Mankind Has Opted For Monoculture; It Is In The Process Of Creating A Mass Civilization, As Beetroot Is Grown In The Mass. Henceforth, Man's Daily Bill Of Fare Will Consist Only Of This One Item.

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.

Not Only Does A Journey Transport Us Over Enormous Distances, It Also Causes Us To Move A Few Degrees Up Or Down In The Social Scale. It Displaces Us Physically And Also For Better Or For Worse Takes Us Out Of Our Class Context, So That The Colour And Flavour Of Certain Places Cannot Be Dissociated From The Always Unexpected Social Level On Which We Find Ourselves In Experiencing Them.

Since Music Is The Only Language With The Contradictory Attributes Of Being Intelligible And Untranslatable, The Musical Creator Is A Being Comparable To The Gods, And Music Itself The Supreme Mystery Of The Science Of Man.

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.