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作者: Leo Tolstoy

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"Yes, stories!" repeated Rostov loudly, looking with eyes
suddenly grown furious, now at Boris, now at Bolkonski. "Yes,
many stories! But our stories are the stories of men who have
been under the enemy's fire! Our stories have some weight, not
like the stories of those fellows on the staff who get rewards
without doing anything!"
"Of whom you imagine me to be one?" said Prince Andrew, with a
quiet and particularly amiable smile.
A strange feeling of exasperation and yet of respect for this
man's self-possession mingled at that moment in Rostov's soul.
"I am not talking about you," he said, "I don't know you and,
frankly, I don't want to. I am speaking of the staff in general."

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