I
have no friend, Margaret: when I am glowing with the enthusiasm of success,
there will be none to participate my joy; if I am assailed by disappointment,
no one will endeavor to sustain me in dejection. I shall commit my thoughts to
paper, it is true; but that is a poor medium for the communication of feeling.
I desire the company of a man who could sympathize with me; whose eyes would
reply to mine. You may deem me a romantic, my dear sister, but I bitterly feel
the want of a friend. I have no one near me, gentle yet courageous, possessed
of a cultivated as well as of a capacious mind, whose tastes are like my own,
to approve of or amend my plans. How would such a friend repair the faults of
your poor brother!
-Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
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