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Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Friday, 24 March 1922
12.30 A.M. Circa. Opus[1]
IX
Aimée Gouraud
I was very simple and masterful; I made a better impression that I have ever done yet. I lunch there on Thursday and get a chapter of Memoirs.
(Snow [Cocaine] since 8.0 P.M. Monday by the way.)
8 [?]. 50. Sonnet to Leah [Leah Hirsig].
I love your fingers, thievish and unclean Long thin crook'd fingers, eager to defile Yourself, to drag all love to your cold vile Vices; foul fingers, sinewy and lean, Each gesture is outrageous and obscene, Whispers all wickedness, in every wile, Woos souls to Satan, complice with your smile —I love your fingers: and the things they mean. I love your fingers; vain their thrilling tips Vain lust that laughs alluring from your lips! Vain, till they keep their promise; they have dallied With delicate debauch; invoke they shall The Devil to annul [?] the animal— The purple [word illegible] the promise of the pellid!
1—[Crowley performs a magical sexual operation.]
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K. Obj[ect] To remove impurities from her body, take them
into mine, and transmute them into nourishment.