I Am Legend

And suddenly he thought, I’m the abnormal one now. Normalcy was a majority concept, the standard of many and not the standard of just one man.

In spite of having lived with death all these years, in spite of having walked a tightrope of bare existence across an endless maw of death — in spite of that he couldn’t understand it. Personal death still was a thing beyond comprehension.

In a week the dog was dead

For days he sat in the chair with his liquor and thought about the woman. And, no matter how hard he tried not to, no matter how much he drank, he kept thinking about Virginia. He kept seeing himself entering the crypt, lifting the coffin lid.

I’ll be all right

We are entering the age of the insect

through the trough

Now they could scream and howl all they wanted

From the speaker over the hallway door, the music of Schönberg was playing loudly.

After the first few weeks of building up intense hope about the dog, it had slowly dawned on him that intense hope was not the answer and never had been. 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.