Napoleon rides down a hill and into a battle.
General Grant walks in a wood.
Alexander rides down a hill and into a battle.

* * * * *

My wife has a serious, almost stern look. Sometimes the thoughts I have
concerning her frighten me. In the afternoon she leaves our house and
goes for a walk. Sometimes she goes to stores, sometimes to visit a
neighbor. There is a yellow house opposite our house. My wife goes out
at a side door and passes along the street between our house and the
yellow house.

The side door of our house bangs. There is a moment of waiting. My
wife's face floats across the yellow background of a picture.

* * * * *

General Pershing rode down a hill and into a battle.
Alexander rode down a hill and into a battle.

* * * * *

Little things are growing big in my mind. The window before my desk
makes a little framed place like a picture. Every day I sit staring. I
wait with an odd sensation of something impending. My hand trembles.
The face that floats through the picture does something I don't
understand. The face floats, then it stops. It goes from the right hand
side to the left hand side, then it stops.