Book: I am legend

"Once it seemed to me that they sing, because the world is all right, thought Robert Neville. Now I know that I was wrong. They sing because they know nothing about".

His hair rustled on the pillow as he moved to look at the clock. Two hours in the morning. Two days since he buried her. Two eyes looking at the clock, two ears picking up the sound of their lips too two. Two of his hands lay limp on the bed.
He tried to get rid of this obsession - but everything stubbornly split into pairs, claiming the cosmic principle of duality, everything has been leading to the altar of duality.

The feeling is the sort of thing that, once dead, is unlikely to be resurrected.

... even what seems obvious is not always true, if there is adequate evidence.

Full circle, he thought while the final lethargy crept into his body. - The circle is closed. Death creates terror. Terror creates fear. And this fear will be overshadowed by new prejudices. So it was... And so will last forever... And now... I am legend.

The norm is the concept of majority. Standard. This solves most, but not a loner, whoever he was.

Despite the fact that all these years he lived side by side, then death, walked on a wire above the abyss, in which he waited for death, and then only by chance, avoiding imminent death. Despite this his mind was not ready. He was not ready to accept death.

To die not having experienced the fullness of the enjoyment of life without knowing happiness in the arms of a loved one. To sink into that hideous coma, to die, or, perhaps, return to sterile, awful, insane, sexless vagrant creature. And will never know what it means to love and what it means to be loved. That's worse than becoming a vampire.

How quickly one accepts the incredible if you see it over and over again with my own eyes.

Society hates and persecutes vampires. But for no reason! But are his needs any more shocking than the needs of man or other animals? Do their actions better than other actions parents bully their children, driving them to madness? The vampire you get tachycardia and hair stand on end. But is he worse than the parent who raised the child of a neurotic, who became later a politician? Is he worse than the manufacturer who set up belated foundations with the money from supplying arms to the nationalist terrorists? Or is it worse than the bastard that surpasses this wheat drink, to permanently derange the brains of poor people, and so not capable of anything how should I think? Or, maybe it is worse than the publisher who filled the case with the advocacy of murder and violence? Ask your conscience, my friend, is it so bad vampires? They just simply drink the blood.

Nabokov full glass, he sat down again and took a SIP. Where is she, she is unclear the point at which it will come off from this sober world, with its precarious balance, and the world with all its vanity finally will lose its clear, but the mad look.