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Correspondence from Frieda Harris to Aleister Crowley
[Undated: circa Autumn 1939]
Dear Aleister,
How difficult you are, so hopelessly muddling your finance is unbearable and so is mine. Please do not explain and try to make matters clear. They are not.
But for your magical retirement—bon voyage. I enclose the coming week stipend and £3 and hope that will and should pay off the hotel where you have stayed with your incorrigible grand manner and perhaps you will be able to sink down in peace. I cannot spare any more so don't worry me any more please. I do hope you are going to have a lovely time. I envy you—I hope you will be able to bear it.
I can't redo the princes just now, I can only think about painting a hen. I may try later but I'm stale on the Tarot and please send me only notes on the Yi King not a volume of efforts to save my historical sense or alter me because I am just going to find my own way with questions to you, but on certain arguments with you it is no good battering me with oaths and reasons.
Yours,
F. H.
Please tell me if you wish to be left in silence for some time.
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