Book · Frankenstein
Page 173 of 483
Author: Mary Shelley
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"Why do you call to my remembrance," I rejoined, "circumstances
of which I shudder to reflect, that I have been the miserable
origin and author? Cursed be the day, abhorred devil, in which
you first saw light! Cursed (although I curse myself) be the
hands that formed you! You have made me wretched beyond
expression. You have left me no power to consider whether I am
just to you or not. Begone! Relieve me from the sight of your
detested form."
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