To communicate with Mars, converse with spirits,
To report the behavior of the sea monster,
Describe the horoscope, haruspicate or scry,
Observe disease in signatures, evoke
Biography from the wrinkles of the palm
And tragedy from fingers, release omens
By sortilege or tea leaves, riddle the inevitable
With playing cards, fiddle with pentagrams
Or barbituric acids, or dissect
The recurrent image into pre-conscious terrors—
To explore the womb, or tomb, or dreams—
All these are usual pastimes and drugs
And features of the press, some of them especially
When there is distress of nations and perplexity,
Whether on the shores of Asia or in the Edgeware Road.
Men’s curiosity searches past and future
And clings to that dimension.

—T. S. Eliot, The Dry Salvages