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Kenneth Grant Diary Entry Sunday, 10 December 1944
10 Dec. 1944. SUNDAY.
The Place. A.C. Bucks. Room No. 11. 1st Landing.
The Time about noon.
The Man [Aleister Crowley]. He is smaller than I expected with a shrewd penetrative glance and a straggly goatee. His hands are beautifully delicate and brownish (freckled here and there). Upon the end finger of his left hand he wears the large gold Scarab Seal.
Almost bald his head is displayed as a beautiful philosophic dome with the Brahmarandhra lump delicately accentuated. He moves deliberately, slowly, and yet somehow fleetingly. His voice is very cultured and slightly nasal at times. Sometimes a high-pitched tone enters therein.
He wore on this day—the first day I saw him—a woolen jacket, a white shirt with heavy pink stripes lending it a reddish hue, a bright scarlet striped tie with a Tree of Life tie pin set therein. Greenish corduroy breeches and curious clasps below the knee and long grey woolen socks, brown brogue shoes. In the evening this was supplemented by a greenish jacket. He reminds me compositely of 3 persons:—the lat Prof. Freud, President Kalinin and Prof. Toad, and yet in a way he is unlike any of them for his lips are beautifully formed and his eyes very penetrative and profound.
The Room. A little larger than my own. The door opens onto the right wall against which is first a waste-paper basket, then . . .
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