I beheld the wretch-the miserable monster whom I had created.

the sentiment of immediate loss in some sort decayed, while that of utter, irremediable loneliness grew on me with time.

There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.

I cherished hope, it is true, but it vanished when my person reflected . . .

Her countenance was all expression; her eyes were not dark but impenetrably deep; you seemed to discover space after space in their intellectual glance.

My person was hideous and my stature gigantic. What did this mean? Who was I? What was I? Whence did I come? What was my destination? These questions continually recurred, but I was unable to solve them.

I see by your eagerness, and the wonder and hope which your eyes express, my friend, that you expect to be in formed of the secret with which I am acquainted. That cannot be.