Quotes About Mary Shelley

The story of Frankenstein, the man created in a laboratory, could be symbolic of these events. It was written by Mary Shelley, the wife of the famous poet. He and she were high initiates of the secret society network which has hoarded and suppressed this knowledge since ancient times.

Like Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, resurrection by human power rather than divine spirit always produces a monstrosity. If

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.

The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the force of reality.

Mary Jane Clairmont, the second wife of William Godwin, and Mary Shelley's stepmother, had the idea of bringing out French fairy tales for children in an attempt to make some much needed money for the family (she has not been given her due by biographers, in my view).

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

I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty of these sensations, I allowed myself to be borne away by them, and forgetting my solitude and deformity, dared to be happy.

My spirit will sleep in peace; or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.

Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.

Anguish and despair had penetrated into the core of my heart; I bore a hell within me, which nothing could extinguish.

I feel a cold northern breeze play upon my cheeks, which braces my nerves and fills me with delight.

You seek for knowledge and wisdom, as I once did; and I ardently hope that the gratification of your wishes may not be a serpent to sting you, as mine has been. - Victor Frankenstein.

It is not pity that you feel; you lament only because the victim of your malignity is withdrawn from your power.

Elizabeth also wept, and was unhappy; but her's also was the misery of innocence, which, like a cloud that passes over the fair moon, for a while hides, but cannot tarnish its brightness.

With an anxiety that almost amounted to agony, I collected the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the lifeless thing that lay at my feet.

Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annhilation of one of us.

What a glorious creature must he have been in the day of his prosperity, when he is thus noble and godlike in ruin.

This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case.

When happy, inanimate nature had the power of bestowing on me the most delightful sensations.

Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by such slight ligaments are we bound to prosperity or ruin.

I became the victim of ingratitude and cold coquetry—then I desponded, and imagined that my discontent gave me a right to hate the world. I

I felt languid, and unable to reflect on all that had passed. The whole series of my life appeared to me as a dream; I sometimes doubted if indeed it were all true, for it never presented itself to my mind with the the force of reality.

Here then I retreated, and lay down happy to have found a shelter, however miserable, from the inclemency of the season, and still more from the barbarity of man.

My total friendlessness, my horror of pushing, and inability to put myself forward unless led, cherished and supported – all this has sunk me in a state of loneliness no other human being, ever before, I believe endured – except Robinson Crusoe . .