Johannes Vermeer The Little Street

Johannes Vermeer The Little StreetJohannes Vermeer Mistress and MaidUnknown Artist Vanitas Still LifeJohn Constable Wivenhoe ParkJohn Constable The White Horse
mean, king of a Lost Kingdom. It'd be dreadful. I've got to get it back.'
You Bastard slowly turned his massive head to follow the flight of an errant blowfly; deep in his brain little columns of red numbers flickered, detailing vectors and speed and elevation. The conversation of human beings seldom interested him, but it crossed his mind that the males and females always got along best when neither Ptraci dutifully cast around for a new topic of conversation. Introducing Topics of Amusing Discourse was also part of a handmaiden's duties. She'd never been particularly good at it. The other girls had come up with an astonishing assortment: everything from the mating habits of crocodiles to speculation about life in the netherworld. She'd found it heavy going after talking about the weather.
'So,' she said. 'You've killed a lot of people, I expect?'
'Mm?'actually listened fully to what the other one was saying. It was much simpler with camels. Teppic stared at the line in the rock. Geometry. That was it. 'We'll go to Ephebe,' he said. 'They know all about geometry and they have some very unsound ideas. Unsound ideas are what I could do with right now.' 'Why do you carry all these knives and things? I mean, really?' 'Hmm? Sorry?' 'All these knives. Why?' Teppic thought about it. 'I suppose I don't feel properly dressed without them,' he said. 'Oh.'