Livro · Frankenstein
Pagina 471 de 483
Autor: Mary Shelley
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He paused, looking on me with wonder, and again turning towards
the lifeless form of his creator, he seemed to forget my
presence, and every feature and gesture seemed instigated by the
wildest rage of some uncontrollable passion.
"That is also my victim!" he exclaimed. "In his murder my crimes
are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its
close! Oh, Frankenstein! Generous and self-devoted being! What
does it avail that I now ask thee to pardon me? I, who
irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou lovedst.
Alas! He is cold, he cannot answer me."
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