I’ve got at least a thousand books in my house, but my tastes run in other directions than yours.
From the article:
“He gazed joyfully, his eyes moist with tears, at this bright comet which, having travelled in its orbit with inconceivable velocity through immeasurable space, seemed suddenly – like an arrow piercing the earth – to remain fixed in a chosen spot, vigorously holding its tail erect, shining and displaying its white light amid countless other scintillating stars,” wrote Tolstoy. “It seemed to Pierre that this comet fully responded to what was passing in his own softened and uplifted soul, now blossoming into a new life.”
Sounds very metrosexual to me!
Tolstoy is one of those writers, like Homer and Shakespeare, that transcend personal taste. And if you know anything about the man he was the anti-Metrosexual. :)