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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Gerald Kelly
Foyers.
Aug 29 [1904?]
My dear Gerald,
I am afraid you have been in much pain, and I am an unsympathetic aesthete (the polite word for Simpson). I send you a R.M. [Rosa Mundi]. I don't think it's any odds having a non-Rodin [Auguste Rodin] vignette—I wanted you to have a hand in a thing entirely your sister's [Rose Kelly]. (What's called nice feeling this is) I agree to, but loftily ignore, your oil-and-water argument.
What is your left testicle doing—just osculating or more? Tell me in simple language what you know about the juggins that broke up your liaison with the charming Sally Muggins. Where do nerves come in. I thought bollocks varied inversely as brains—one down t'other come on. But I am a brute—it is ill jesting with a sore bollock—never give a bollock sulphur! if you do you'll repent it. There's nought like pea-coddling—you let the bollock alone and he'll let you alone—(You read "the Londoners"?). I'm really frightfully sorry and wish you would rest here instead of the I[sle] of W[ight].
Yes: you, Back [Ivor Back] (and I in less degree) should collaborate the introduction to the Bromo Book, to rag the one of whom Browning mellifluously chanted.
Just for a rachet and surplice he left us Just for a riband to stick on his coat.
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