I am alone and miserable. Only someone as ugly as I am could love me.

Polluted by crimes, and torn by the bitterest remorse, where can I find rest but in death?

Devil, do you dare approach me? and do you not fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head?

I am very averse to bringing myself forward in print, but as my account will only appear as an appendage to a former production, and as it will be confined to such topics as have connection with my authorship alone, I can hardly accuse myself of a personal intrusion.

These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil principle and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and godlike.

I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.