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Man, I cried, how ignorant art thou in thy pride of wisdom!

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

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Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Art
Men
Cried
Ignorant
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Pride
Wisdom

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The air of fashion, which many young people are so eager to attain, always strikes me like the studied attitudes of some modern prints, copied with tasteless servility after the antigue the soul is left out, and none of the parts are tied together by what may properly be termed character.
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I beheld the wretch-the miserable monster whom I had created.
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The world was to me a secret which I desired to devine.
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I am malicious because I am miserable
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Nothing is so painful to the human mind as a great and sudden change.
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The instructor can scarcely give sensibility where it is essentially wanting, nor talent to the unpercipient block. But he can cultivate and direct the affections of the pupil, who puts forth, as a parasite, tendrils by which to cling, not knowing to what - to a supporter or a destroyer.
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. . . the companions of our childhood always possess a certain power over our minds which hardly any later friend can obtain.
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My own mind began to grow, watchful with anxoius thoughts.
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What can stop the determined heart and resolved will of man?
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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 inquiries were directed to the metaphysical, or in its highest sense, the physical secrets of the world.
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These wonderful narrations inspired me with strange feelings. 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.
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