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How tragically alone such women are! And how natural it is that they should fear, at first, not to be alone! Many fear even to speak to themselves, let alone another. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 1, Sentence #276)

Squirming in terror on the flooring outside the container, on its metal plating, amongst the clawed feet of Kur raiders, fearing to be destroyed, even eaten, by what to her were fierce and incomprehensible beasts, she had cried out "Masters!" This had surprised me. I had been startled, though I had sensed even in the container something of the deep nature, the hidden reality, of the lovely, petty, snobbish, supercilious Miss Pym. Who knows the secret thoughts locked in the diary of a woman's dreams? And how few of them would dare to open the pages of that intimate journal to a stranger's perusal. How tragically alone such women are! And how natural it is that they should fear, at first, not to be alone! Many fear even to speak to themselves, let alone another. In her extremity, her elections of certain utterances were, of course, not to be unexpected in a female. They are common in the history of worlds. What have they to bargain with, save their beauty? And will it be enough? Is it sufficient? Is it enough that they will be spared, to be brought, perhaps rather sooner than later, to the sales block? But such a cry was to be expected, not only in any woman at the feet of males, but particularly from one such as she, who, in a thousand ways, I discerned, sensed the fittingness of her position, her prostration. - (Swordsmen of Gor)