Chapters
Chapter 4: Frankenstein: The 1818 Text by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley
From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.
Chapters
From this day natural philosophy, and particularly chemistry, in the most comprehensive sense of the term, became nearly my sole occupation.
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When I had attained the age of seventeen my parents resolved that I should become a student at the university of Ingolstadt.
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We were brought up together; there was not quite a year difference in our ages. I need not say that we were strangers to any species of disunion or dispute.
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I am by birth a Genevese, and my family is one of the most distinguished of that republic. My ancestors had been for many years counsellors and syndics, and my father had filled several public situations with honour and reputation.
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So strange an accident has happened to us that I cannot forbear recording it, although it is very probable that you will see me before these papers can come into your possession.
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I write a few lines in haste to say that I am safe—and well advanced on my voyage. This letter will reach England by a merchantman now on its homeward voyage from Archangel; more fortunate than I, who may not see my native land, perhaps, for many years.
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How slowly the time passes here, encompassed as I am by frost and snow! Yet a second step is taken towards my enterprise.
Fiction
You will rejoice to hear that no disaster has accompanied the commencement of an enterprise which you have regarded with such evil forebodings.
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1988 OUR PARENTS OWNED A DAY CARE THEY RAN FROM OUR HOME IN New Hampshire—a converted old barn with a bright rainbow painted on the roof. Rainbow Kids Care, it was called. We had a little goat farm with five goats (Donny, Lonny, Sunny, Spunky, and Trailblazer) and a
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THE FIRST COURTROOM I EVER SAW WAS ON AN EPISODE OF ONE Life to Live. My older sister, Éclair, was a soap opera fanatic.
Fiction
We are an undifferentiated cloud. We are all dead and none of us have been able to move on. We talk at once. We are aggrieved. Our chatter is endless.
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It was ironic that Zhenia and Ben would come home from spending time with people who had kids and be so giddy with relief and self-righteousness over their decision not to have any that it would make them want to fuck.
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It started in the fifth grade with a postcard. I had just come home from soccer practice and found it waiting on my desk in my room, right on top of my dog-eared copy of Jessica Darling.
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The paper is blank save for the name: Jake. The four letters rest on cream stationery lacking any additional information but sporting a firm black border. It’s weighty, this note. Significant in my hands.
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That evening she is sitting on the leather couch, looking out the window, studying online to learn how to code when Doug comes home with a new Stella. She looks like the one Annie saw at her last tune-up.
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“Come to bed, mouse. I know how to cheer you up,” he says. “I’m not brooding,” Annie says. “You sure?” “Fairly sure.”