The true Christian is a stranger to the sectarian spirit; he is all things to all men, and looks on all men as the children of a common father, who means to save them all. The whole cult has for him only a sense of sweetness and of love: he leaves to God the secrets of justice, and understands only charity.
Éliphas Lévi, trans Aleister Crowley, Liber XLVI The Key of the Mysteries
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- Odd Jobs: so called not because they were varied or petty but because they could only be collectively described as odd; Missions into a world of mysticism, the occult and sometimes even the horrific and nightmarish. A world beyond a war, beyond man and his understanding.
- “Fond limbs with mine were intertwined, A hand lascivious fondled me; My ears grew deaf, my eyes grew blind, My tongue was hot from kisses free, Short madness, and we lazily Lolled back upon the bed of fire. I was a-weary — her desire Drew her upon me — Marion, fie! You work our pleasure till I tire: But we must part, and love must die.”
- “But if Masonry has not as yet fulfilled its primary purpose and, though engaged in admirable secondary activities, is as yet an initiating instrument of low efficiency, it may be that, with enlarged understanding of its designs, that efficiency may yet become very considerably increased.”
- “Throughout my life, I have always wanted to speak the truth, but speaking wasn’t my forte. My mouth would open to utter something and my brain would demand my mouth to shut immediately, lest I make a fool of myself. I possessed a profound inability to articulate my thoughts verbally.”
- “The king did start, Gripped my strong hands, and held me to his heart, And could not speak a moment. Then he set A curb of sorrow and subdued its dart. ‘Go! and the blessing of high God attend Thy path, and lead thee to the doubtful end. No tongue that secret ever may reveal. Thy soul is god-like and thy frame is steel; Thou mayst win the quest–the king, thy friend, Gives thee his sword to keep thee–Gereth, kneel! ‘I dub thee Earl; arise!’ And then there rings The queen’s voice: ‘Shall my love not match the king’s? Here, from my finger drawn, this gem of power Shall guard thee in some unimagined hour. It hath strange virtue over mortal things. I freely give it for thy stirrup’s dower.’ I left the presence. Now the buffeting wind Gladdens my face–I leave the court behind. Am I Stark mad? My face grows grim and grave; I see–O Mary Mother, speak and save! I stare and stare until mine eyes are blind– There was no jewel in the ring she gave!”