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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Tuesday, 4 May 1920
Assuming, as we have every right to do, from observation of their characters and manners, that people are poached eggs, we cannot complain of their being illogical if they want toast to sit on. This is the key to the solution of the housing problem.
The last night's entry. This Wanderer is usually a Troubador or Fool, and he does not stay with the Queen; he impregnates her and goes on his way rejoicing. This is symbolic of how Gods come to planets, confer blessings, and disappear—as I may one day do. It is surely an error to hang around after the women; there are others who need babies. Clearly, if a Magus win to Ipsissimus, he is 'Himself again' as the comedy phrase means. Why should I continue to live? Only because of my Oath to preach my Law.
I find my thoughts confused: 'Let me dig down to that Will!' So then analysis is all right, so long as there is Buried Treasure.
11.25 a.m. Opus[1] VIII, 31-666-31 [Leah Hirsig] p.v.n.[2] with Ethel [Ether]. Object: New picture, wave style, only bigger and better. Opus, Very good, especially for mental concentration. Elixir, Excellent.
How profound is Ovid's title Metamorphoses and how rightly he includes the 'creation' of the world. Creation and destruction are words meaningless in chemistry, where all equations balance.
1—[Crowley performs a magical sexual operation.] 2—[Per vas nefandum. By the unmentionable vessel, i.e. anal intercourse.]
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