Dear love, dear wife, dear mother of the child
Whose fair faint features are a match for mine,
Lurks there no secret where your body smiled,
No serpent in the generous draught of wine?
Aleister Crowley, Rosa Inferni, I in Gargoyles
Dear love, dear wife, dear mother of the child
Whose fair faint features are a match for mine,
Lurks there no secret where your body smiled,
No serpent in the generous draught of wine?
Aleister Crowley, Rosa Inferni, I in Gargoyles
“If one’s different, one’s bound to be lonely. They’re beastly to one. Do you know, they shut me out of absolutely everything? When the other boys were sent out to spend the night on the mountains—you know, when you have to dream which your sacred animal is—they wouldn’t let me go with the others; they wouldn’t tell me any of the secrets. I did it by myself, though,” he added. “Didn’t eat anything for five days and then went out one night alone into those mountains there.” He pointed. Patronizingly, Bernard smiled. “And did you dream of anything?” he asked. The other nodded. “But I mustn’t tell you what.”
Aldous Huxley, Brave New World [Amazon, Bookshop, Publisher, Local Library]