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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Edward Noel Fitzgerald
10 Hanover Square.
Feb. 5. 1942.
Dear Noel,
93.
Amused at your delightful girl. Read yours to Frieda H. [Frieda Harris] and created a tempest of abuse. F.H. hates anything real, scolds the whole world for not being as she wants it. Escapism is a miserable career and leads to a ghastly end.
Delighted with your news of Edith. I do hope you will find work in some less God awful part of the world. It's unspeakably bloody in this burg. The weather is a military secret, cannot be disclosed in any case, as there are no words, even in Air Force vocabulary. Rough proof of Trump XIX [from The Book of Thoth] in at last. Revise, and perhaps two in 10 days or so, I'll hope to send it as soon as she gets back. My advice to you is to send her paper for a parcel stamped and addressed, with string to tie it—and not one word. It was really rotten when she had the two copies side by side on the shelf, and I took yours out, and begged her to send it. I should have taken it away myself.
Do write more news.
93 93/93.
Yours,
Aleister.
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