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

The labours of men of genius, however erroneously directed, scarcely ever fail in ultimately turning to the solid advantage of mankind.

Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?

Once a king ... it was impossible, without risk of life, to sink to a private station.

From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition.

Satan has his companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and detested.

A solitary being is by instinct a wanderer.