All the Way With Anna K.!

I've been taking an awesome course on Tolstoy's magnificent novel and, in the throes of insomnia last night, composed the following bits of doggerel:

Tolstoy's Anna, in turmoil and pain,

Bears an indelible stain.

And she's so fatalistic

She becomes a statistic

By way of an oncoming train.

****

Anna Karenina, errant wife,

Finds passion with Vronsky but loses her life.

The message here could be etched in stone:

One cannot live on love alone.