In the past he had dreaded the end. Twice he had experienced the frightful agony which is the fear of death, of the end, but now that fear meant nothing to him.
The first time was when the shell was spinning like a top before him, and he had looked at the stubble-field, at the bushes, at the sky, and known that he was face to face with death. When he had recovered consciousness after his wound, and instantly, as though set free from the cramping bondage of life, the flower of unfettered love had opened out in his soul, he had had no more fear and no more thought of death.
WAR AND PEACE