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Автор: Mary Shelley

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"But how was I to direct myself? I knew that I must travel in a
southwesterly direction to reach my destination, but the sun was
my only guide. I did not know the names of the towns that I was
to pass through, nor could I ask information from a single human
being; but I did not despair. From you only could I hope for
succour, although towards you I felt no sentiment but that of
hatred. Unfeeling, heartless creator! You had endowed me with
perceptions and passions and then cast me abroad an object for
the scorn and horror of mankind. But on you only had I any claim
for pity and redress, and from you I determined to seek that
justice which I vainly attempted to gain from any other being
that wore the human form.

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