Vincent van Gogh Wheat Field with Rising Sun

Vincent van Gogh Wheat Field with Rising SunVincent van Gogh Wheat Field 1889Vincent van Gogh Road with Cypress and Star
surely the world is a perfect sphere, spinning about the sphere of the sun, just as the Septateuch tells us," said Brutha. "That seems so . . . logical. That's how things ought to be."
"Ought?" said Didactylos. "Well, I don't know about ought. That's not a philosophical word."
"And . . . what is this . . ." Brutha murmured, pointing to a circle under the drawing of the turtle.
"That's a plan view," said Urn.
"Map of the world," said Didactylos.
"Map? What's a map?"
"It's a sort of "Gods," said Brutha weakly.
His mind was on fire. These people made all these books about things, and they weren't sure. But he'd been sure, and Brother Nhumrod had been sure, and Deacon Vorbis had a sureness you picture that shows you where you are," said Didactylos.Brutha stared in wonderment. "And how does it know?""Hah!""Gods," prompted Om again. "We're here to ask about gods!""But is all this true?" said Brutha.Didactylos shrugged. "Could be. Could be. We are here and it is now. The way I see it is, after that, everything tends towards guesswork.""You mean you don't know it's true?" said Brutha."I think it might be," said Didactylos. "I could be wrong. Not being certain is what being a philosopher is all about.""Talk about gods," said Om.