Oh! grief is fantastic; it weaves a web on which to trace the history of its woe from every form and change around; it incorporates itself with all living nature; it finds sustenance in every object; as light, it fills all things, and, like light, it gives its own colors to all.
Mary Wollstonecraft ShelleyMen 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.
Mary Wollstonecraft ShelleyI was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.
Mary Wollstonecraft ShelleyPrecious attribute of woe-worn humanity! that can snatch ecstatic emotion, even from under the very share and harrow, that ruthlessly ploughs up and lays waste every hope.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley