07/11/17 - (Fire) Liber LXV, Cap. IV, v. 1-2
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Liber LXV, Cap. IV, v. 1-2
- O crystal heart! I the Serpent clasp Thee; I drive home mine head into the central core of Thee, O God my beloved.
- Even as on the resounding wind-swept heights of Mitylene some god-like woman casts aside the lyre, and with her locks aflame as an aureole, plunges into the wet heart of the creation, so I, O Lord my God!
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Liber LXV, Cap. IV, v. 1-2
- O crystal heart! I the Serpent clasp Thee; I drive home mine head into the central core of Thee, O God my beloved.
- Even as on the resounding wind-swept heights of Mitylene some god-like woman casts aside the lyre, and with her locks aflame as an aureole, plunges into the wet heart of the creation, so I, O Lord my God!
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