Claude Monet Haystack at Giverny

Claude Monet Haystack at GivernyJean Auguste Dominique Ingres Ingres The SourcePeter Paul Rubens Samson and Delilah
Novice Brutha," he said, "for what reason are you talking to a small tortoise?"
"Because-” Brutha paused. "Because it's talking to me . . . isn't it?"
Brother Nhumrod looked down at the small, one-eyed head poking out of the shell.
He was, by and large, a kindly man. Sometimes demons and devils did put disquieting thoughts in his head, but he saw to it that they stayed there and he did not in any literal sense deserve to be called what the tortoise called him which, in fact, if he had heard it, he would have thought was something to do with feet. And he was well aware "I cannot hear it, Brutha."
"It told me it was . . ." Brutha hesitated. "It told me it was the Great God."
He flinched. Grandmother would have hit him with something heavy now.that it was possible to hear voices attributed to demons and, sometimes, gods. Tortoises was a new one. Tortoises made him feel worried about Brutha, whom he'd always thought of as an amiable lump who did, without any sort of complaint, anything asked of him. Of course, many novices volunteered for cleaning out the cesspits and bull cages, out of a strange belief that holiness and piety had something to do with being up to your knees in dirt. Brutha never volunteered, but if he was told to do something he did it, not out of any desire to impress,but simply because he'd been told. And now he was talking to tortoises."I think I have to tell you, Brutha," he said, "that it is not talking.""You can't hear it?"
"Ah. Well, you see, Brutha," said Brother Nhumrod, twitching gently