CROWLEY, Aleister (The Master Therion 666). Liber Aleph: The Book of Wisdom or Folly, in the Form of an Epistle of 666 The Great Wild Beast to his Son 777, being The Equinox Volume III No. vi. New York: 93 Publishing Limited (by special arrangement with Samuel Weiser, Inc.), 1991. First Edition thus. Hardcover. Tall octavo. Bound in oatmeal cloth with red stamped Equinox image to front. Red stamped spine titles and device. Red endpapers. Color frontispiece painting of Crowley. xxxii + 220pp. A near fine copy, issued without dust jacket.
This is Crowley’s classic work which contains 208 short chapters which show the essence of his thoughts about magic, mysticism, psychology, philosophy, the world, God and man (and woman), and much more. “Liber Aleph, The Book of Wisdom or Folly was intended to express the heart of my doctrine in the most deep and delicate dimensions. (Before using the word dimensions many considerations occurred to me. It is startling; that quality itself is not repugnant to its use in such a connection. Its use was followed by a discussion between myself and my cynocephalus, who was herself struck by the singularity of the word, so much so, that I had to warn her not to spell it with two d’s, and my explanations, thought unsatisfactory, decided me to insert this note in the text of my autohagiography….Liber Aleph is the most tense and intense book that I have ever composed. The thought is so concentrated and, if I may use the word, nervous, that both to write then, and to read now, involved an involves an almost intolerable strain. I remember how I used to sit at my desk night after night — it was the bitterest winter that had been known in New York for many years — but even if the central heating had been the flames of hell itself, I doubt whether I should have been warm. Night after night I sat, all through, rigid as a corpse, and icier; the whole of my life concentrated in two spots; the small section of my brain which was occupied in the work, and my right wrist and fingers. I remember with absolute clearness that my consciousness appeared to start from a perfectly dead forearm” — The Confessions of Aleister Crowley. New York, 1969. Pages 831-832.