|
Aleister Crowley Diary Entry Wednesday, 6 June 1923
Die Mercury
Midnight. Adoration to Khephra. must put down the rules for my new variation of Piquet,[1] lest it be lost to the world.
4.22 a.m. Woke with a bad spasm of coughing. But the point is that I would have sworn that I had not been to sleep as I must surely have been.
Note that the ‘Cliché’is impure language in any sense of the word. Each word, sovereign in itself, becomes servile by being harnessed constantly to another.
1—[A card game for two players who use a pack without any sevens.]
|