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Frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus - Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft ยท 72 words
Frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus - Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft
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.
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