Читать книгу The Collected Works of Aleister Crowley - Aleister Crowley - Страница 107

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Love is all virtue, since the pleasure of love is but love, and the pain of love is but love.

Love taketh no heed of that which is not and of that which is.

Absence exalteth love, and presence exalteth love.

Love moveth ever from height to height of ecstasy and faileth never.

The wings of love droop not with time, nor slacken for life or for death.

Love destroyeth self, uniting self with that which is not-self, so that Love breedeth All and None in One.

Is it not so? . . . No? . . .

Then thou art not lost in love ; speak not of love.

Love Alway Yieldeth : Love Alway Hardeneth.

. . . . . . . . . . May be : I write it but to write Her name.