Jane Wolfe Diary Entry

Saturday, 25 December 1920

 

     

 

P.M.

 

Waked up rather ill—bad headache and general lassitude. Slept in Abbey. Went to Umbilicus and to bed till 11:30. Somewhat refreshed.

 

[1]

I must learn, somehow, to bring things through. This evening a very illuminative couplet regarding “Filth, so called; that phase of life in a nutshell. I understood all. When this finite mind grasps that in a moment, clearly and definitely, will it constitute an “illumination”? Is it in this way that illuminations take root?

 

 

Comment(s) by Aleister Crowley

1—Didn't understand this: sounds good.

 

 

[102]