Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley Quotes about Grief

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How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber, and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart - to return from the land of deceptive dreams to the heavy knowledge of unchanged

How dreadful it is, to emerge from the oblivion of slumber, and to receive as a good morrow the mute wailing of one's own hapless heart - to return from the land of deceptive dreams to the heavy knowledge of unchanged disaster!

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Dream, Grief, Heart

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1833). “The Last Man”, p.180

Even the eternal skies weep, I thought; is there any shame then, that mortal man should spend himself in tears?

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Grief, Rain, Men

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (2012). “The Last Man”, p.596, tredition

Oh! grief is fantastic; it weaves a web on which to trace the history of its woe from every form and change around; it incorporates itself with all living nature; it finds sustenance in every object; as light, it fills all things, and, like light, it gives its own colors to all.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Grief, Light, Color

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1826). “The last man, by the author of Frankenstein”, p.197

Even broken in spirit as he is, no one can feel more deeply than he does the beauties of nature. The starry sky, the sea, and every sight afforded by these wonderful regions, seems still to have the power of elevating his soul from earth. Such a man has a double existence: he may suffer misery, and be overwhelmed by disappointments; yet, when he has retired into himself, he will be like a celestial spirit that has a halo around him, within whose circle no grief or folly ventures.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Disappointment, Grief, Sight

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1823). “Frankenstein: ; Or, The Modern Prometheus”, p.34, DOSER Reads

Precious attribute of woe-worn humanity! that can snatch ecstatic emotion, even from under the very share and harrow, that ruthlessly ploughs up and lays waste every hope.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Grief, Humanity, Despair

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1826). “The last man, by the author of Frankenstein”, p.158

And now, once again, I bid my hideous progeny go forth and prosper. I have an affection for it, for it was the offspring of happy days, when death and grief were but words, which found no true echo in my heart.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Grief, Heart, Echoes

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1993). “Frankenstein”, p.5, Wordsworth Editions

The time at length arrives, when grief is rather an indulgence than a necessity and the smile that plays upon the lips, although it may be deemed a sacrilege, is not banished.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley

Grief, Play, May

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley (1869). “Frankenstein: Or, The Modern Prometheus”, p.35