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"Our masters, the beasts, the brutes, those who put us in collars, and make us kneel, those from whose largesse we must hope they will grant us a pan of food or a rag, those whose whips we must fear, do so," she said. - (Dancer of Gor, Chapter 24, Sentence #510)

"That is unnatural," I said. "Is it so surprising," she asked, "that a beast might walk upright?" I looked at her. "Or even that they should walk in power and pride?" "I do not understand," I said. "Our masters, the beasts, the brutes, those who put us in collars, and make us kneel, those from whose largesse we must hope they will grant us a pan of food or a rag, those whose whips we must fear, do so," she said. "Yes," I breathed. "They do!" Our masters, the magnificent beasts, so powerful, so free, so liberated and masculine, so glorious in their untrammeled manhood, so uncompromising with us, did so. "But this thing, I think," she said, "is not such a beast, not a human beast, not a man in the full power of his intelligence, vitality and animality, but some other sort of beast, something perhaps similar somehow, but very different, too". - (Dancer of Gor)