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Correspondence from Aleister Crowley to Edward Noel Fitzgerald
November 22 1944.
Dear Noel,
93.
In haste. No wonder you are fed up! "Sergeant, no wonder you are browned "Off" the old Colonel said: You have the hoar frost on the ground, and mine is warm in bed", as the poet says. But London must be far worse, by all account of many who have been, or are, there. V2 is no joke. Here it is still possible, but one doesn't have one's mind turned to it so often. I think of shifting to S. Coast for winter.
What you say re Tarot is perhaps true. But the fact remains. Madly rushed on "Aleister Explains Everything" [Magick Without Tears]: done over 70 letters already.
93 93/93.
Best love,
Aleister.
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