Mary Shelley was born 210 years ago today. I'll always love her for creating one of the most complex heroes in literature.
There's a heartbreaking line from Kenneth Branagh's Frankenstein that sums the Creature up beautifully and perfectly. I don't have a copy of the novel with me, and it's been a while since I've read it, but if this line isn't there verbatim, the feeling behind it certainly is.
"I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other."
Happy Birthday, Mary.