All Of Us Have A Path To

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.

Failures Plagued Me. Things I Had Omitted Or Ignored, Neglected. What I Should Have Given And Hadn’t. I Felt The Biting Pang Of Every Unfulfillment.

No Longer Will You Be A Weird Robinson Crusoe, Imprisoned On An Island Of Night Surrounded By Oceans Of Death.

Heaven Would Never Be Heaven Without You.

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.