Book 27. (1 results) Prize of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 27 | 1005 | A gentle wind stirred stalks of View more quotes about grass">grass. |
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Book 27. (7 results) Prize of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 27 | 1002 | She feared that the smallest movement, the tiniest sound, the most diminutive influence, might prove critical, like the smallest jarring, or jostling, like a small thing which might tip a balance, a carelessly dislodged pebble that releases an avalanche, the particle of static electricity which triggers the bolt of lighting, the tiny movement, even a hesitant, uncertain, false step, which causes a gingerly held device, reposing in its container, to awaken, exploding, crying out, showering bricks, gouging asphalt, striking away roofs and walls for a hundred yards about. |
| 27 | 1003 | There was the sound of the feeding of the sleen. |
| 27 | 1004 | The sky was a bright blue. |
| 27 | 1005 | A gentle wind stirred stalks of grass. |
| 27 | 1006 | "Tarnsmen!" said Selius Arconious. |
| 27 | 1007 | "Tarnsmen!" Men tensed, the hands of riders almost darted to their weapons. |
| 27 | 1008 | "Do you think we are fools?" asked the first rider. |
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She feared that the smallest movement, the tiniest sound, the most diminutive influence, might prove critical, like the smallest jarring, or jostling, like a small thing which might tip a balance, a carelessly dislodged pebble that releases an avalanche, the particle of static electricity which triggers the bolt of lighting, the tiny movement, even a hesitant, uncertain, false step, which causes a gingerly held device, reposing in its container, to awaken, exploding, crying out, showering bricks, gouging asphalt, striking away roofs and walls for a hundred yards about.
There was the sound of the feeding of the sleen.
The sky was a bright blue.
A gentle wind stirred stalks of grass.
"Tarnsmen!" said Selius Arconious.
"Tarnsmen!" Men tensed, the hands of riders almost darted to their weapons.
"Do you think we are fools?" asked the first rider.
- (Prize of Gor)