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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Saturday, 26 June 1920
I have been reading scraps of F. C. Phillips, once famous for As in a Looking-glass. He's amazing. A man writes to a friend casually that he'll have to marry an heiress; and gives her a Palais Royal ring! He thinks poachers wicked, and bull-fights cruel; and his people 'sustain a broken leg'. A girl nobly refuses the rich man for his penniless cousin, and the rich man is killed next week. That is a typical plot of one of his stories. It is all frightfully disheartening: the ass can even call a man a 'private' in his title, and then make him a trooper, and be an esteemed novelist. That Homer nodded is no reason why moderns should snore aloud all the time.
9.00 p.m. Opus[1] VI, Mohammed [Tsaida] etc. as before. Operation: very good. Elixir: ditto. Object: Magick Power to spread the Law.
1—[Crowley conducts a magical sexual operation.]
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