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The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolation I am alone.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

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Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
Even
Associates
Men
Fallen
Angel
Devil
Becomes
Enemy
Alone
Malignant
Friends
Desolation

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A mind of moderate capacity which closely pursues one study must infallibly arrive at great proficiency in that study.
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You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.
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I am alone and miserable. Only someone as ugly as I am could love me.
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Accursed creator! Why did you form a monster so hideous that even you turned from me in disgust?
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Seek happiness in tranquility and avoid ambition even if it be only the apparently innocent one of distinguishing yourself in science and discoveries.
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It is hardly surprising that women concentrate on the way they look instead of what is in their minds since not much has been put in their minds to begin with.
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I am malicious because I am miserable
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Our faults are apt to assume giant and exaggerated forms to our eyes in youth.
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I could not understand why men who knew all about good and evil could hate and kill each other.
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Supremely frightful would be the effect of any human endeavor to mock the stupendous mechanism of the Creator of the world.
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Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man!
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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.
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Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world.
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the sentiment of immediate loss in some sort decayed, while that of utter, irremediable loneliness grew on me with time.
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From my infancy I was imbued with high hopes and a lofty ambition.
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Solitude was my only consolation - deep, dark, deathlike solitude.
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How mutable are our feelings, and how strange is that clinging love we have of life even in the excess of misery!
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
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Of what a strange nature is knowledge! It clings to a mind when it has once seized on it like a lichen on a rock. - Frankenstein p115
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Evil thenceforth became my good.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
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...once I falsely hoped to meet the beings who, pardoning my outward form, would love me for the excellent qualities which I was capable of unfolding.
Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley