by Edgar Rice Burroughs
ON THE ARIZONA HILLS
I am a very old man; how old I do not know. Possibly I am
a hundred, possibly more; but I cannot tell because I have
never aged as other men, nor do I remember any childhood.
So far as I can recollect I have always been a man, a man
of about thirty. I appear today as I did forty years and
more ago, and yet I feel that I cannot go on living forever;
that some day I shall die the real death from which there is
no resurrection. I do not know why I should fear death,
I who have died twice and am still alive; but yet I have the
same horror of it as you who have never died, and it is
because of this terror of death, I believe, that I am so
convinced of my mortality.
And because of this conviction I have determined to write
down the story of the interesting periods of my life and of