Quotes from Austin Osman Spare

Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love. Teach me to sustain its freedom; for I am sufficiently Hell. Let me sin against the small beliefs.

At that time of ecstasy there is no thought of others; there is NO THOUGHT. Thither I go and none may lead.

Farewell antithesis. I have suffered. All is paid. Let me go forth to recreate my sleep

AGAPE of the Christos had spent its force. It laid upon the land as a shroud when once it had been a bright and shining spell of liberation. Under this pall the scorpion bred consciousness in the charnel house of putrefaction. Monsters arose and walked the earth in the guise of living men and women.These are the hypocrites to whom the sermon was delivered.

Foul feeders! Slipped, are ye, on your own excrement? Parasites! Having made the world lousy, imagine ye are of significance to Heaven? Desiring to learn-think ye to escape hurt in the rape of your ignorance? For of what I put in, far more than innocence shall come out!

É através dos enganos que se acha o caminho correto.

You are alive! True magic involves the reduction of properties to simplicity – making them transmutable so that they can be utilized in fresh directions, bearing fruit many times. Know deliberation, self-consciousness and concentration to be antithetical to magic, and sycophancy to be a way of making stupid.

Belief is ever its own tempter to believe differently

Oh, you men of small pleasure and enterprise, oblivious to your purpose, fault-finding, avaricious and sinful, who cannot live without women and cannot enjoy without pain, fearsome, inconstant, diseased and withered, dependent, cruel, deceived and liars, the worst of men!

Self-love in complete perspective, serves its own invincible purpose of ecstasy. Supreme bliss simulating opposition is its balance. It suffers no hurt, neither does it labour. Is it not self-attracting and independent? Assuredly we cannot call it balance.

The only teaching possible is to show a man how to learn from his own wisdom, and to utilise his ignorance and mistakes: not by obscuring his vision and intention by ideas of 'right' and 'wrong'.73

Honest was Sodom! YOUR theology is a slime-pit of gibberish become ethics. In YOUR world, where ignorance and deceit constitute felicity, everything ends miserably besmirched with fratricidal blood.

Unworthy of a soul-your metamorphosis is laborious of morbid rebirth to give habitance to the shabby sentiments, the ugly familiarities, the calligraphic pandemonium-a world of abundance acquired of greed. Thus are ye outcasts! Ye habitate dung-heaps; your glorious palaces are hospitals set amid cemeteries. [...] Can you realize of Heaven when it exists WITHOUT?

To believe or unbelieve is the question. Verily, if you believe of the least-ye needs must thrive all things. Ye are of all things, of all knowledge, and, be like, will you or stupidity to further self- misery!

Know ye what ye want? What ye ask? Know ye virtue from maniacal muttering? Sin from folly? Desiring a teacher, who among ye are worthy to learn? Brutally shall I teach the gospel of soul-suicide, of contraception, not preservation and procreation. Fools! Ye have made vital the belief the Ego is eternal, fulfilling a purpose, not lost to you.

Know my purpose: To be a stranger unto myself, the enemy of truth. Uncertain of what ye believe, belike ye half-desire?

Ideas of Self in conflict cannot be slain, by resistance they are a reality- no Death or cunning has overcome them but is there reinforcement of energy. The dead are born again and again lie in the womb of conscience. By allowing maturity is to predicate decay when by non-resistance is retrogression to early simplicity and the passage to the original and unity without idea. From that idea is the formula of non-resistance germinating "Does not matter- please yourself.

Empty of cosmos are they who hunger after righteousness. Already are the merciful spent. Extinct are the pure in heart. Governed are the meek and of Heaven earn similar disgust. Your society is a veneered barbarity. Ye are precocious primitives. Where is your success other than through hatred? There is no good understanding in your world.

Give me the death of my soul. Intoxicate me with self-love.

For I am I: ergo, the truth of myself; my own sphinx, conflict, chaos, vortex—asymmetric to all rhythms, oblique to all paths. I am the prism between black and white: mine own unison in duality.

In our solitariness... great depths are sometimes sounded. Truth hideth in company.

My desires sprang forth as a mighty sun - all embracing - associating in the form - vortex, to enjoy ALL consciousness