A Man Could Get Used To Anything

Now When I Die, I Shall Only Be Dead.

I Hope People Are Reading My Work In The Future. I Hope I Have Done More Than Frightened A Couple Of Generations. I Hope I've Inspired A Few People One Way Or Another.

In A Typical Desperation For Quick Answers, Easily Understood, People Had Turned To Primitive Worship As The Solution. With Less Than Success. Not Only Had They Died As Quickly As The Rest Of The People, But They Had Died With Terror In Their Hearts, With A Mortal Dread Flowing In Their Very Veins.

Robert Neville Looked Out Over The New People Of The Earth. He Knew He Did Not Belong To Them; He Knew That, Like The Vampires, He Was Anathema And Black Terror To Be Destroyed. And, Abruptly, The Concept Came, Amusing To Him Even In His Pain. ... Full Circle. A New Terror Born In Death, A New Superstition Entering The Unassailable Fortress Of Forever. I Am Legend.

We've Forgotten Much. How To Struggle, How To Rise To Dizzy Heights And Sink To Unparalleled Depths. We No Longer Aspire To Anything. Even The Finer Shades Of Despair Are Lost To Us. We've Ceased To Be Runners. We Plod From Structure To Conveyance To Employment And Back Again. We Live Within The Boundaries That Science Has Determined For Us. The Measuring Stick Is Short And Sweet. The Full Gamut Of Life Is A Brief, Shadowy Continuum That Runs From Gray To More Gray. The Rainbow Is Bleached. We Hardly Know How To Doubt Anymore. (“the Thing”)