Period Drama Appreciation Week 2024 || Day 6 - Favorite time period|| Regency Era

DOUGLAS BOOTH & TOM STURRIDGE as Percy Bysshe Shelley and Lord Byron in MARRY SHELLEY (2017)

Elle Fanning as Mary Shelley

TOM STURRIDGE as Lord Byron in Mary Shelley (2017)

I’ve never read such a perfect encapsulation of what it feels to be abandoned. I seethed with your monster’s rage. I lusted for his revenge. Because it was my own. I wonder how many souls will sympathize with your creature’s torments? More than should, I expect.

MARY SHELLEY (2017) dir. Haifaa Al-Mansour

— Mary Shelley, The Last Man (via mesogeios)

Mary Shelley ― Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus

Mary Shelley began writing her novel Frankenstein when she was only 18 years old. It started one night in Switzerland during a party with her friends, where they challenged each other to write a ghost story. Out of that simple challenge she created one of the most beloved monsters in history.

Douglas Booth kissing scenes in Mary Shelley, w. Elle Fanning ➥ part 5/?

Mary Shelley (2017)

Mary Shelley, from a letter to Percy Bysshe Shelley written c. July 1814 (via violentwavesofemotion)

It is my story. Did you ask this of Mr. Shelley when he first presented his work to you? Or do you save this insult for young women? And you dare to question a woman’s ability to experience loss, death… betrayal, all of which is present in this story. In my story. Which you would have realized if you’d employed the time judging the work, instead of judging me.

I’ve never read such a perfect encapsulation of what it feels to be abandoned. I seethed with your monster’s rage. I lusted for his revenge. Because it was my own. I wonder how many souls will sympathize with your creature’s torments? More than should, I expect.

MARY SHELLEY (2017) dir. Haifaa Al-Mansour

It was a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils. Remember that I am thy creature. I ought to be thy Adam but I am rather the fallen angel whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy and I shall again be virtuous. But soon, he cried, I shall die and what I now feel be no longer felt. Soon, these burning miseries will be extinct. I shall ascend my funeral pyre triumphantly and exult in the agony of the torturing flames. My spirit will sleep in peace, or if it thinks, it will not surely think thus. Farewell.