Mary Shelley

Noth­ing is so pain­ful to the hu­man mind as a great and sud­den change.

he might sleep in the be­lief that the si­lence of the grave would quench forever the tran­si­ent ex­ist­ence of the hideous corpse which he had looked upon as the cradle of life.

I wish therefore that my companion should be wiser and more experienced than myself, to confirm and support me; nor have I believed it impossible to find a true friend.

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature

fore­bod­ings

un­der­tak­ing

sur­pass­ing

It was on a dreary night of Novem­ber

Alas! why does man boast of sens­ib­il­it­ies su­per­ior to those ap­par­ent in the brute; it only renders them more ne­ces­sary be­ings. If our im­pulses were con­fined to hun­ger, thirst, and de­sire, we might be nearly free; but now we are moved by every wind that blows, and a chance word or scene that that word may con­vey to us

The cup of life was poisoned forever;