Taro of the Four Worldsby Steve Nichols
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TARO OF THE FOUR WORLDS. Sensational rediscovery of an original Trionfi (Triumph, thence Trump) Tarot from Renaissance Italy of 1571 AD! These Greek Mystery "Four Orders of Virtue" were described as a game in 1425 AD, but no images were associated with this early description. This series of eighty-eight Emblematic engravings were miscategorised in the Antiquarian book trade as "History of Art", since their engraver, Zaltieri, was in the great Veneziani school that included Tintoretto. Many illustrations throughout including all 88 cards. Divination meanings, history of the deck, magical theory, original written descriptions and mythology from C16th Italy. Easy to learn spreads. A unique and fascinating insight into the minds of the ancients. This taro(t) deck projects the 22 well known major cards into all 88 netibuth (paths) across the Four Qabalistic Worlds. 366 pages.
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- LULU PRESS
- NOOK Book
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- 55 MB
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"Wandering soul" has amazing guides. This story is AMAZING, downright amazing-er than mine.
For my love hath driven me to madness........ ~ Maybe love is madness. That view of love is certainly more flattering than my own. Love is.......something that fades, like mist. Love is my bane, it is the thing that keeps me from putting the knife to their throat myself. The thing that enamores me and drives me to corruption, makes me fall into imperfection. I can easily say the only hate that I have is, in fact, for love. ~ I walk to the shattered window and look down upon the city beneath. I stand 75 stories above the ground, the oddly warm wind sweeping in gently, brushing against me as I stare into the city glow. I know he must be trembling behind me now. Mr. Rauxe. It's odd how idiotic our system is. It allows men like him to be a certified psychologist, when his own mind is incredibly weak, his emotions unstable, his control lacking. Really some would view this as a crime, others authorize it and view it as greater good, but honestly when it comes down to it I'm simply ridding the world of an incredibly inept therapist. ~ I turn to him and see the look of horror as he realizes what he has done. Of course, it is all technically my fault, but I believe he knows as well as I just how responsible he is for his weak mind. The desk he shoved, the girl he killed 75 stories below, the words I whispered oh so gently in his ear. ~ I step from the window and grab a pen from off the floor. Pulling out the book from my coat I quickly write the poem, setting up yet another killer for my painting. I toss the pen at the shellshocked man, step to the door and turn one last time before leaving. ~ "Thank you, Mr. Raux, for your stimulating company and the use of your pen, please do say hello to the police for me. Ah yes, and tell your daughter Fyodor Dostoyevsky says hello." ~ I step from the room and as my footsteps echo through, upon the wind is the sound of sirens. ~ NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I used to write on here often, but sady I've been away for a while. Long storh short, I have forgotten all of the type tricks that give you blank lines, symbols, etc. If someone could direct me to a place to learn all that I would very much appreciate it. Also, comments and thoughts are amazing. This story may seem unexplained now, but later it will make much more sense. Thank you for reading. ~Amyntas
Waits at first res