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I hoped that those humans who returned from the Nest would not be hunted by Initiates and burned or impaled as heretics and blasphemers. - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 33, Sentence #117)

The Initiates had their way of life, their ancient traditions, their given livelihood, the prestige of their caste, which they claimed to be the highest on the planet, their teachings, their holy books, their services, their role to play in the culture. Suppose that even now if they knew the truth—what would change? Would I really expect them—at least on the whole—to burn their robes, to surrender their claims to secret knowledge and powers, to pick up the hoes of Peasants, the needles of the Cloth Workers, to bend their energies to the humble tasks of honest work? "He is an impostor," said one of the Initiates. "He must die," said another. I hoped that those humans who returned from the Nest would not be hunted by Initiates and burned or impaled as heretics and blasphemers. Perhaps they would simply be treated as fanatics, as daft homeless wanderers, innocent in the madness of their delusions. Who would believe them? Who would take the word of scattered vagrants against the word of the mighty Caste of Initiates? And, if he did believe them, who would dare to speak out that he did so? The Initiates, it seemed, had conquered. I supposed many of the humans might even return to the Nest, where they could live and love and be happy. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)