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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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Though five minutes before, Prince Andrew had been able to say a
few words to the soldiers who were carrying him, now with his
eyes fixed straight on Napoleon, he was silent.... So
insignificant at that moment seemed to him all the interests that
engrossed Napoleon, so mean did his hero himself with his paltry
vanity and joy in victory appear, compared to the lofty,
equitable, and kindly sky which he had seen and understood, that
he could not answer him.
Everything seemed so futile and insignificant in comparison with
the stern and solemn train of thought that weakness from loss of
blood, suffering, and the nearness of death aroused in him.
Looking into Napoleon's eyes Prince Andrew thought of the
insignificance of greatness, the unimportance of life which no
one could understand, and the still greater unimportance of
death, the meaning of which no one alive could understand or
explain.

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