" We rest; a dream has power to poison sleep.      We rise; one wand'ring thought pollutes the day. We feel, conceive, or reason; laugh or weep,      Embrace fond woe, or cast our cares away; It is the same: for, be it joy or sorrow,      The path of its departure still is free. Man's yesterday may ne'er be like his morrow;      Nought may endure but mutability! "

― Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley , Frankenstein: The 1818 Text