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The Illuminatus! Trilogy: The Eye in the Pyramid, The Golden Apple, Leviathan [Paperback]

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  • Category: Books (Fiction)
  • Author:  Shea, Robert
  • Author:  Shea, Robert
  • ISBN-10:  0440539811
  • ISBN-10:  0440539811
  • ISBN-13:  9780440539810
  • ISBN-13:  9780440539810
  • Publisher:  Dell
  • Publisher:  Dell
  • Pages:  816
  • Pages:  816
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Binding:  Paperback
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1983
  • Pub Date:  01-May-1983
  • SKU:  0440539811-11-SPLV
  • SKU:  0440539811-11-SPLV
  • Item ID: 100314113
  • List Price: $21.00
  • Seller: ShopSpell
  • Ships in: 2 business days
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  • Delivery by: Nov 27 to Nov 29
  • Notes: Brand New Book. Order Now.

Filled with sex and violence--in and out of time and space--the three books ofThe Illuminatusare only partly works of the imagination. They tackle all the coverups of our time--from who really shot the Kennedys to why there's a pyramid on a one-dollar bill.Robert Sheawas the co-author of theIlluminatus! trilogy with Robert Anton Wilson and the author of six other novels includingShike, All Things Are Lights, The Saracen, and Shaman. He died in 1994.THE ILLUMINATUS! TRILOGY

The First Trip, or Kether
From Dealey Plaza To Watergate...


The Purple Sage opened his mouth and moved his tongue and so spate to them and he said:

The Earth quakes and the Heavens raffle; the beasts of nature flock together and the nations of men flock apart; volcanoes usher up heat while elsewhere water becomes ice and melts; and then on other days it just rains.

Indeed do many things come to pass.

-Lord Omar Khayaam Ravenhurst, K.S.C.,
“The Book of Predications”.The Honest Book of Truth


It was the year when they finally immanentized the Eschaton. On April 1, the world's great powers came closer to nuclear war than ever before, all because of an obscure island named Fernando Poo. By the time international affairs returned to their normal cold-war level, some wits were calling it the most tasteless April Fool's joke in history. I happen to know all the details about what happened, but I have no idea how to recount them in a manner that will make sense to most readers. For instance, I am not even sure who I am, and my embarrassment on that matter mates me wonder if you will believe anything I reveal. Worse yet, I am at the moment very conscious of a squirrel-in Central Park, just off Sixty-eighth Street, in New York City-that is leaping from one tree to another, and I think that happens on the night of April 23 (or is it the morning of April 24?), but fitting the squirrel lƒ]

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