O my Son, this Sin itself that is our Disease is but Misunderstanding of the Art of Love of Our Lady Nuit. Yea, verily, it is all a Trick of Her Wit, and a Device of Her Delight, that Sin should appear, and also (mark thou well!) the Misapprehension of its Nature. Therefore the Pain of any Sinner in his Division and His Separation is to Her a little Spasm of Pleasure. But as for him, let him apprehend this Doctrine, and dissolve himself in Her Love. Thou then, being Initiate and Illuminated in this Truth, mayst accept thine own Sorrow, or rather that of thy Vehicle, as Lackey to the Joy that thou hast in thy True Self, the Star among the Stars of Her Body. The Adept of our Art is not compassionate concerning Sin, in his own Vehicle or another's, unless the Healing thereof were proper to his Will, for he is aware of the whole Truth of the Matter. So goeth he upon his Way, and tighteneth not a Rein upon the Horses of the Universe, but is content, beholding the Speed of their Course. Verily, o my Son, it is well written in
The Book of the Magus that it is the Curse of my Grade that I must needs preach my Law unto Men. For I am afflicted in my Tabernacle on this Count, but in my Self, I rejoice, and join in the Laughter of Her love.
