I'm Sitting In My Office Trying To

In A World Of Monotonous Horror There Could Be No Salvation In Wild Dreaming. Horror He Had Adjusted To. But Monotony Was The Greater Obstacle, And He Realized It Now, Understood It At Long Last. And Understanding It Seemed To Give Him A Sort Of Quiet Peace, A Sense Of Having Spread All The Cards On His Mental Table, Examined Them, And Settled Conclusively On The Desired Hand.

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.

Thank You...for Gracing My Life With Your Lovely Presence, For Adding The Sweet Measure Of Your Soul To My Existence.

Because There Was Only One Thing Worse Than Dying. And That Was Knowing You Were Going To Die. And Where. And How. (“death Ship”)

When I'm Writing, Especially When I'm Writing In First Person, I Don't Think About The Characterization, Or How They Are Going To Express Themselves, I Just Express My Own Approach To These Things. I Think Most Writers Can Never Divorce Themselves From Their Private Lives And Personas; They Are The Ones That Are Writing. And The More They Remove Themselves From Their Own Persona, The More, Perhaps, Mechanical The Work Becomes.