The Key Of Joy Is Disobedience.

I Was In The Death Struggle With Self: God And Satan Fought For My Soul Those Three Long Hours. God Conquered — Now I Have Only One Doubt Left — Which Of The Twain Was God?

If You Examine The Highest Poetry In The Light Of Common Sense, You Can Only Say That It Is Rubbish; And In Actual Fact You Cannot So Examine It At All, Because There Is Something In Poetry Which Is Not In The Words Themselves, Which Is Not In The Images Suggested By The Words 'o Windy Star Blown Sideways Up The Sky!' True Poetry Is Itself A Magic Spell Which Is A Key To The Ineffable.

Tell The Truth, But Lead So Improbable A Life That The Truth Will Never Be Believed.

There Is Only One Really Safe, Mild, Harmless Beverage And You Can Drink As Much Of That As You Like Without Running The Slightest Risk, And What You Say When You Want It Is, 'garcon! Un Pernod!'

Magick Is The Art Of Life Itself.