Darkness had no effect upon my fancy, and a churchyard was to me merely the receptacle of bodies deprived of life, which, from being the seat of beauty and strength, had become food for the worm.
None but those who have experienced them can conceive of the enticements of science.
I was tempted to do something with "In M. Waldman I found a true friend." The word friend is used over and over in this book. Maybe this is really just about making imaginary friends? But this page is so filled with "ardour", "heart", "soul" and "sly smile"s that I had to go with this one.
I requested his advice concerning the books I ought to procure.
I don't seem to know how to keep the paint from reflecting the threads of the canvas.
As he went on I felt as if my soul were grappling with a palpable enemy; one by one the various keys were touched which formed the mechanism of my being; chord after chord was sounded, and soon my mind was filled with one thought, one conception, one purpose.
With a confusion of ideas only to be accounted for by my extreme youth and my want of a guide on such matters, I had retrod the steps of knowledge along the paths of time and exchanged the discoveries of recent enquirers for the dreams of forgotten alchemists.
Chance -- or rather the evil influence, the Angel of Destruction, which asserted omnipotent sway over me from the moment I turned my reluctant steps from my father's door -- led me first to M. Krempe, professor of natural philosophy.

He said little, but when he spoke I read in his kindling eye and in his animated glance a restrained but firm resolve not to be chained to the miserable details of commerce.

12"x6" Acrylic on Canvas Paper. Clerval's arm is a bit thick, eh?
She died calmly, and her countenance expressed affection even in death.

She attended her sickbed; her watchful attentions triumphed over the malignity of the distemper -- Elizabeth was saved, but the consequences of this imprudence were fatal to her preserver.

Destiny was too potent, and her immutable laws had decreed my utter and terrible destruction.

When I was about fifteen years old we had retired to our house near Belrive, when we witnessed a most violent and terrible thunderstorm.

The untaught peasant beheld the elements around him and was acquainted with their practical uses. The most learned philosopher knew little more.

Besides, in drawing the picture of my early days, I also record those events which led, by insensible steps, to my after tale of misery, for when I would account to myself for the birth of that passion which afterwards ruled my destiny I find it arise, like a mountain river, from ignoble and almost forgotten sources; but, swelling as it proceeded, it became the torrent which, in its course, has swept away all my hopes and joys.

He tried to make us act plays and to enter into masquerades, in which the characters were drawn from the heroes of Roncesvalles, of the Round Table of King Arthur, and the chivalrous train who shed their blood to redeem the holy sepulchre from the hands of the infidels.

This is Clerval, Victor's younger brother.
While my companion contemplated with a serious and satisfied spirit the magnificent appearances of things, I delighted in investigating their causes. The world was to me a secret which I desired to divine.

Everyone loved Elizabeth

If I were a better planner, I'd have done this heart-themed one on Monday. (I'm running about three weeks painting in advance of publishing.) If I had let the page sit a little longer, I'd have concentrated on all the instances of the word "mine" on this page.
She continued with her foster parents and bloomed in their rude abode, fairer than a garden rose among dark-leaved brambles.

Their benevolent disposition often made them enter the cottages of the poor.

First the father stalks the mother, then the mother and father stalk the poor.
But Caroline Beaufort possessed a mind of an uncommon mould, and her courage rose to support her in her adversity.

Yes, yes. I know it's a poor pun.
Beaufort had taken effectual measures to conceal himself, and it was ten months before my father discovered his abode.

Acrylic and Sharpie on canvas paper, 9"x12"