Men become cannibals of their own hearts; remorse, regret, and restless impatience usurp the place of more wholesome feeling: every thing seems better than that which is.

We are fashioned creatures, but half made up. - Victor Frankenstein

Allow me now to return to the cottagers, whose story excited in me such various feelings of indignation, delight, and wonder, but which all terminated in additional love and reverence for my protectors (for so I loved, in an innocent, half painful self-deceit, to call them).

Ah! it is well for the unfortunate to be resigned, but for the guilty there is no peace.

At the age of twenty six I am in the condition of an aged person - all my old friends are gone... & my heart fails when I think by how few ties I hold to the world.

I, a miserable wretch, haunted by a curse that shut up every avenue to enjoyment.

Everything must have a beginning ... and that beginning must be linked to something that went before.