Mary Shelley Quotes

I beheld the wretch-the miserable monster whom I had created.

The time will come when it will disgust you to look in the mirror.

I felt profoundly ashamed, I was very much upset.

Remorse is a violent dyspepsia of the mind.

Nothing is more wretched than the mind of a man conscious of guilt.

How unhappy is he who cannot forgive himself.

People have pain - they do regrettable things, they feel shame, and shame equals pain.

She went to the window seat and sat there, sniffling, hating them all, and herself most of all. It was all her fault, everything bad that had happened.

I have nothing to make me miserable," she said, getting calmer; "but can you understand that everything has become hateful, loathsome, coarse to me, and I myself most of all? You can't imagine what loathsome thoughts I have about everything." "Why, whatever loathsome thoughts can you have?" asked Dolly, smiling. "The most utterly loathsome and coarse; I can't tell you. It's not unhappiness, or low spirits, but much worse. As though everything that was good in me was all hidden away, and nothing was left but the most loathsome.

Remembering is only a new form of suffering.

I loved you. I was a pentapod monster, but I loved you. I was despicable and brutal, and turpid, and everything, mais je t’aimais, je t’aimais!

I managed to reach a depth of self-loathing that usually takes a night of drinking to achieve.

How many times, over how many years, had he—a grown man—asked for the mercy of another chance? He was suddenly so sick of himself, so revolted, that he could have groaned aloud.

It was the emotion I hated the most of all emotions, shame.

This means nothing,” she said. “Less than nothing,” he lied. “I’ll hate myself later.” “I hate myself now.

I was making love to this girl and she started crying. I said, "Are you going to hate yourself in the morning?" She said, "No, I hate myself now."

This was not guilt: guilt is what you feel when you have done something wrong. What I felt was shame: I was what was wrong.

I have been, or seemed, hard with everyone because I was carried away by a sort of brutality born of my distrust in myself and my ill-humor. I have felt so badly equipped, so soft, in spite of the fact that my attitude towards art seemed to me so just. I was disgusted with everyone, and especially myself.

It's hard for me to talk about the terrible things that have happened in my lifetime because they didn't need to be.

Why have I so little control? It is the case of much waste and pain in my life.

There were a handful of shows that were just painful. Not many, but things where I just said going into it, "Why am I here? What am I doing?"

... Herbert said of himself, with his eyes fixed on the fire, that he thought he must have committed a felony and forgotten the details of it, he felt so dejected and guilty.

I wish I hadn't cried so much!” said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, by being drowned in my own tears !

Because no, I didn’t push her away. I didn’t add to her pain or do anything to hurt her. Instead, I left her alone in that room. The only person who might’ve been able to reach out and save her from herself. To pull her back from wherever she was heading. I did what she asked and I left. When I should have stayed.

Is there any stab as deep as wondering where and how much you failed those you loved.