Won't be around forever, girl

I am now very much starting to enjoy my British Lit class. Maybe it's because we're not doing poetry! Well, some of it is still poetry, but it's the story kind of poetry, not the rambling, on and on about some tree or something. Some people may find that beautiful; I find it tedious. I like to get to The Point, nice and solid.

Anyway, we started reading Frankenstein by Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, Percy Shelley's wife. I love it. It's absolutely nothing like modern day versions of Frankenstein. Frankenstein is the creator of the Creature, and the story basically focuses on him instead of the Creature, unlike most stories do. If I could get my hands on more works like this, I'd be set. I have to quote this one paragraph:

I threw myself into the chaise that was to convey me away, and indulged in the most melancholy reflections. I, who had ever been surrounded by amiable companions, continually engaged in endeavouring to bestow mutual pleasure, I was now alone. In the university, whither I was going, I must form my own friends, and be my own protector. My life had hitherto been remarkably secluded and domestic; and this had given me invincible repugnance to new countenances. I loved my brothers, Elizabeth, and Clerval; these were "old familiar faces;" but I believed myself totally unfitted for the company of strangers. Such were my reflections as I commenced my journey; but as I proceeded my spirits and hopes rose. I ardently desired the acquisition of knowledge. I had often, when at home, thought it hard to remain during my youth cooped up in one place, and had longed to enter the world, and take my station among other human beings. Now my desires were compiled with, and it would, indeed, have been folly to repent.

How funny. That is pretty much exactly how I felt about starting college, and maybe even moving there. I just thought that was interesting.

One more; I know, I'm being terribly boring, but I found this beautiful:

While I watched the tempest, so beautiful yet terrific, I wandered on with a hasty step. This noble war in the sky elevated my spirits; I clasped my hands, and exclaimed aloud, "William, dear angel this is thy funeral, this thy dirge!"

Frankenstein's young brother, William, was strangled to death. Waah. Man, I love this story. Mary Shelley, I am sorry that you had such a tragic life, and even more sorry that your husband wrote poetry, but you're a-okay in my book!

I also started Lord Byron's Manfred, which I am also enjoying very much. Three cheers for a "poem" that doesn't really ramble!

I think, next semester, I'm going to take a study on modern writing. I really like this stuff, but I'd also like to see the comparison between that and now. Yaaay college. :D

(Also, I've never used tags before, but I guess I'll start now!)