I love you no longer with the devotion which is paid to a Saint: I prize you no more for the virtues of your soul; I lust for the enjoyment of your person. The Woman reigns in my bosom, and I am become a prey to the wildest of passions. Away with friendship! ‘tis a cold unfeeling word. My bosom burns with love, with unutterable love, and love must be its return. Tremble then, Ambrosio, tremble to succeed in your prayers…. I feel with every heart-throb, that I must enjoy you, or die.

Matthew Lewis, “The Monk” (1796)

[Let me never again hear people say that 18th-century novels are boring.]

83 Notes/ Hide

  1. echoinglight reblogged this from 18thcentury
  2. trillpussy reblogged this from madlaughter
  3. madlaughter reblogged this from musicistheart
  4. cammycat333 reblogged this from 18thcentury
  5. jerradkinsella reblogged this from boyhood
  6. deadhairyfish reblogged this from boyhood
  7. boldfont reblogged this from boyhood
  8. chazkeats reblogged this from boyhood
  9. boyhood reblogged this from 18thcentury
  10. lostontheroad reblogged this from 18thcentury
  11. apayo reblogged this from 18thcentury
  12. truthiswhatyoumakeit reblogged this from 18thcentury
  13. somogu reblogged this from 18thcentury
  14. motherofgott reblogged this from 18thcentury
  15. atoms-and-eves reblogged this from gothgirlsgotogivenchy
  16. zombiehypnosis reblogged this from 18thcentury
  17. ratherbestoned reblogged this from 18thcentury
  18. imaginent reblogged this from 18thcentury
  19. noobs915 reblogged this from 18thcentury
  20. gothgirlsgotogivenchy reblogged this from 18thcentury and added:
    Read this book for a horror fiction class, so twisted.
  21. optimistically-optimistic reblogged this from 18thcentury

Recent comments

Blog comments powered by Disqus