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When I looked around, I saw and heard of none like me. Was I then a monster, a blot upon the earth, from which all men fled, and whom all men disowned?

Was man, indeed, at once so powerful, so virtuous, and magnificent, yet so vicious and base? He appeared at one time a mere scion of the evil principle, and at another as all that can be conceived of noble and godlike.

If such lovely creatures were miserable, it was less strange that I, an imperfect and solitary being, should be wretched. Yet why were these gentle beings unhappy?

"I expected this reception," said the dæmon. "All men hate the wretched; how then must I be hated"

Siento la analogía tan cutre, pero Victor Frankenstein hablando sobre su amedrentamiento como si fuese la mayor víctima del mundo por haber abandonado a su propia creación me recuerda a JPelirrojo rollo victimizándose al contar lo "mal" que lo pasó tras haberle puesto él los cuernos a Roenlared xdd

A human being in perfection ought always to preserve a calm and peaceful mind, and never to allow passion or a transitory desire to disturb his tranquility. I do not think that the pursuit of knowledge is an exception to this rule.

What had been the study and desire of the wisest men since the creation of the world was now within my grasp.

To examine the causes of life, we must first have recourse to death.

“The ancient teachers of this science,” said he, “promised impossibilities, and performed nothing. The modern masters promise very little; they know that metals cannot be transmuted, and that the elixir of life is a chimera. But these philosophers, whose hands seem only made to dabble in dirt, and their eyes to pour over the microscope or crucible, have indeed performed miracles.”

It was the secrets of heaven and earth that I desired to learn; and whether it was the outward substance of things, or the inner spirit of nature and the mysterious soul of man that occupied me, still my enquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world

Rich people - you have to be sorry for them. They haven't the slightest idea how to spend their money; they haven't the slightest idea how to enjoy themselves. Either they have no taste at all, or, if they have any taste, it's like a mausoleum and they're shut up in it.

Mención a Coleridge yay

My life might have been passed in ease and luxury; but I preferred glory to every enticement that wealth placed in my path.

Leer la parte tres te deja fatal emocionalmente

Well, there you are. It's not that these things happen or even that one survives them, but what makes life strange is that they are forgotten. Even the one moment that you thought was your eternity fades out and is forgotten and dies.

Oh gosh this is so depressing

It's a strange feeling - when you know quite certainly in yourself that something is for always. It's like what death must be. All the insouciance, all the gaiety is a bluff.

Because I wanted to escape from London I fastened myself on him, and I am dragging him down. All the gaiety is going and now he is thin and anxious...

People talk about the happy life, but that's the happy life when you don't care any longer if you live or die. You only get there after a long time and many mis fortunes. And do you think you are left there? Never.
As soon as you have reached this heaven of indifference, you are pulled out of it. From your heaven you have to go back to hell.

But it's always when a thing sounds not true that it is true

When I complain about the bandages she says: 'I promise you that when you take them of you'll be just as you were before.' And it is true. When she takes them of there is not one line, not one winkle, not one crease.
And five weeks afterwards there I am, with not one line, not one wrinkle, not one crease.

Well, this was a funny time. (The big bowl of coffee in the morning with a pattern of red and blue lowers. I was always so thirsty.) But uneasy, uneasy....Ought a baby to be as pretty as this, as pale as this, as silent as this? The other babies yell from morning to night. Uneasy...

Oh shit

'Human beings are cruel - horribly cruel.'
'Not at all,' the older one answers irritably, 'not at all. That's a very shortsighted view. Human beings are struggling, and so they are egotists. But it's wrong to say that they are wholly cruel - it's a deformed view.'

I have no pride - no pride, no name, no face, no country. I don't belong anywhere.

Now I no longer wish to be loved, beautiful, happy or successful. I want one thing and one thing only - to be left alone.

Everything in their whole bloody world is a cliche. Everything is born out of a cliche, rests on a cliche, survives by a cliche. And they believe in the cliches - there's no hope.