We have pretended that there was no such thing as sex, no such thing as venereal disease, that our publicists were True Believers in Christianity, that our women were pure and our men brave; we have howled down every man who dared to hint the truth: we have sowed the wind of pious phrases, and we must reap the whirlwind of war. It has been the same in every drawer of our cupboard—and now the skeleton is out.
Aleister Crowley, The Vindication of Nietzsche
This is my old house on the marsh, and here,
Here is the terror of the distant sea
Moaning, and here the wind that wails, the drear
Groans like a ghost’s, the desolate house of fear
Whence I fled once from my great enemy —
This is the house! O speechless misery!
Aleister Crowley, Oracles, The House
My muscles flexed and movement was a joy, a dance. The wind was whispering against my face. I am wolf.
J Damask, Wolf at the Door
ΚΕΦΑΛΗ ΜϜ Buttons and Rosettes in Liber CCCXXXIII, The Book of Lies by Aleister Crowley.
“Be thou more greedy that the shark, more full of yearning than the wind among the pines.” [via]