A Dark and Stormy Night

The la­bours I en­dured were no longer to be al­le­vi­ated by the bright sun or gentle breezes of spring; all joy was but a mock­ery, which in­sul­ted my des­ol­ate state, and made me feel more pain­fully that I was not made for the en­joy­ment of pleas­ure.

the whole train of my pro­gress to­wards the cre­ation; the ap­pear­ance of the work of my own hands alive at my bed­side; its de­par­ture.

serpent to sting you,

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

“By de­grees I made a dis­cov­ery of still greater mo­ment. I found that these people pos­sessed a method of com­mu­nic­at­ing their ex­per­i­ence and feel­ings to one an­other by ar­tic­u­late sounds. I per­ceived that the words they spoke some­times, pro­duced pleas­ure or pain, smiles or sad­ness, in the minds and coun­ten­ances of the hear­ers. This was in­deed a god­like sci­ence, and I ar­dently de­sired to be­come ac­quain­ted with it

I was a poor, help­less, miser­able wretch; I knew, and could dis­tin­guish, noth­ing; but feel­ing pain in­vade me on all sides, I sat down and wept.

I feel as if I were walk­ing on the edge of a pre­cip­ice, to­wards which thou­sands are crowding, and en­deav­our­ing to plunge me into the abyss.

I feel ex­quis­ite pleas­ure in dwell­ing on the re­col­lec­tions of child­hood, be­fore mis­for­tune had tain­ted my mind, and changed its bright vis­ions of ex­tens­ive use­ful­ness into gloomy and nar­row re­flec­tions upon self.

How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow!

Come, Victor; not brooding thoughts of vengeance against the assassin, but with feelings of peace and gentleness, that will heal, instead of festering, the wounds of our minds. Enter the house of mourning, my friend, but with kindness and affection for those who love you, and not with hatred for your enemies.