There is not one Word in this Letter that is not writ with mine own Hand and Style, slowly and heedfully (as is contrary with my custom) being the Fruit of the Tree of my Meditation, well-ripened by the Sun of mine Illumination. With much Toil have I done this, being oftentimes seated without Motion save of the Hands, while Earth rolled from Twilight unto Twilight, so that my Body became cold and rigid, even as is a Corpse. Also, in the Intervals of this Scripture, have I been given to Contemplation and to Works of High Magick, notably the Mass of the Holy Ghost, in the Concentration of my Will to impart this Wisdom unto thee, and to reveal the Mysteries of Truth. Now of all these this is the Root, that Truth is not fixed with the Rigour of Death, but vital with Lust of Change, and enflamed with the Love of its opposite. Thus even Falsehood is not alien to Truth, for the Perfection of Nature comprehendeth all. But all these Things are written in
The Book of the Law, after which do I limp painfully; afar off, upon the poor Crutch of mine Understanding of its Word; yea, I am well assured that in that Book are writ all Things soever; but we, being mostly without Wit, are not able to distinguish them. For the Stature of Aiwass is beyond our Measure, seeing that he was able to comprehend the whole Mystery of Nuit and of Hadit, and yet to declare Their Message in the Language of Man.
