There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
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There is something at work in my soul, which I do not understand.

— Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
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More “Frankenstein” Quotes

I felt emotions of gentleness and pleasure, that had long appeared dead, revive within me. Half surprised by the novelty — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
Oh! Be men, or be more than men. Be steady to your purposes and firm as a rock. This ice is not made of such stuff as yo — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
He pushed a finger through the surface of the water to trace the outline of her mouth. Ethereal bits of flesh floated lo — P.J. Parker, Fire on the Water: A Companion to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
The stuff of nightmares is not only relegated to unconscious thoughts upon a pillow, safely beneath an eiderdown. — P.J. Parker, Fire on the Water: A Companion to Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
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The articles were extremely eye-opening. Not just in Teen Vogue but in Seventeen and CosmoGirl as well. They were all ab — Lisi Harrison, Monster High
This advice, although good, was totally inapplicable to my case. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
Had Mary Shelley fretted so? Maybe yes, maybe no. She’d begun her classic work on a dare. Had culled a dream to bring it — L.L. Barkat, The Novelist
Whether consciousness is implanted in us by something divine, or whether it is created by the efforts of our brains, the — Neal Shusterman, UnWholly
I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which y — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Frankenstein
The very winds whispered in soothing accents, and maternal Nature bade me weep no more. — Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
The fallen angel becomes a malignant devil. Yet even that enemy of God and man had friends and associates in his desolat — I am alone.