Frankenstein by Mary Shelley
One day, while I was gradually recovering, I was seated in a chair, my eyes half-open, and my cheeks livid, like those in death. I was overcome by gloom and misery, and often reflected that I had better seek death than desire to remain in a world which to me was replete with wretchedness. At one time I considered whether I should not declare myself guilty, and suffer the penalty of the law, less innocent than poor Justine had been. Such were my thoughts when the door of my apartment was opened, and Mr Kirwin entered. His countenance expressed sympathy and compassion; he drew a chair close to mine, and addressed me in French- “I fear that this place is very shocking to you; can I do anything to make you more comfortable?” “I thank you; but all you mention is nothing to me: on the whole earth there is no comfort which I am capable of receiving.” “I know that the sympathy of a stranger can be but of little relief to one borne down as you are by so strange a misfortune. But you will, I hope, soon quit this melancholy abode; for, doubtless evidence can easily be brought to free you from the criminal charge.” “That is my least concern; I am, by a course of strange events, become the most miserable of mortals. Persecuted and tortured as I am and have been, can death be any evil to me?” “Nothing indeed could be more unfortunate and agonising than the strange chances that have lately occurred. You were thrown, by some