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Mary Shelley

  • exitlistshar citeretfor 2 år siden
    the whole train of my pro­gress to­wards the cre­ation; the ap­pear­ance of the work of my own hands alive at my bed­side; its de­par­ture.
  • Alexa Gracehar citeretsidste år
    Noth­ing is so pain­ful to the hu­man mind as a great and sud­den change.
  • Laryssa Carrarohar citeretsidste år
    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.
  • b1357399417har citeretfor 9 måneder siden
    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.
  • b1357399417har citeretfor 9 måneder siden
    Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature
  • Loonhar citeretfor 2 år siden
    Satan had his companions, fellow devils, to admire and encourage him, but I am solitary and abhorred.’
  • jellybellyhar citeretsidste år
    Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beau­ties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight af­forded by these won­der­ful re­gions, seems still to have the power of el­ev­at­ing his soul from earth. Such a man has a double ex­ist­ence: he may suf­fer misery, and be over­whelmed by dis­ap­point­ments; yet, when he has re­tired into him­self, he will be like a ce­les­tial spirit, that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ven­tures.
  • kazimirhar citeretsidste år
    It was on a dreary night of Novem­ber
  • kazimirhar citeretsidste år
    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
  • kazimirhar citeretsidste år
    The cup of life was poisoned forever;
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