(ANALYSIS) Leo Tolstoy spent half a century avoiding arguably the most essential truth of them all: Everything comes to an end. If that’s true, which it is, what’s the point? He’d conquered every peak the world could name. “War and Peace” made him immortal. “Anna Karenina” made him rich. Critics worshipped him in tongues he didn’t even speak. Russian aristocrats name-dropped him like Scripture.

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