To me! To me! To me all the juicy gamahuches of the morning!
To me the fucks that give one zest for lunch! To me the buggerings of the early afternoon, and the bub and armpit joys that occupy the wise from five o’clock to dinner. To me the nameless raptures of the evening and the night! O fucking! what fun you are!
Aleister Crowley, Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden, Capitulum V
These, dear girl, are for you. They form this pleasant book. Now strip yourself and get a candle; lunge in front of a looking-glass and read and frig alternately. If you are grown up, a dog or a man to suck you saves labour—of any sort—and time. But I want you to swim in a perfect ocean of fuck as you read—and please God if we ever meet—what ho!
Aleister Crowley, Snowdrops from a Curate’s Garden, Prologue