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Andrei’s situation raises an issue I’ve been grappling with throughout the novel: it’s an issue of Tolstoy’s beliefs. If we were to live only for the next life, then what point is it to live now? There would be no joy in living, no love while alive. And if we don’t care about life now, what value has it, for us or for others? Don’t we have to sin to be good? Shouldn’t we be more like Pierre and Natasha?