Book · Frankenstein
Page 70 of 483
Author: Mary Shelley
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I passed the night wretchedly. Sometimes my pulse beat so quickly
and hardly that I felt the palpitation of every artery; at
others, I nearly sank to the ground through languor and extreme
weakness. Mingled with this horror, I felt the bitterness of
disappointment; dreams that had been my food and pleasant rest
for so long a space were now become a hell to me; and the change
was so rapid, the overthrow so complete!
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