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When one looked upon him one had the sense of a quiet, coiled spring, or, perhaps better, that of a clever, cunning, coiled, watchful ost. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 32, Sentence #39)

In this I gathered they shared some status, or station. Lord Okimoto had small, narrow eyes, and they squinted out, from between rolls of fat. Lord Nishida was straight, lean like a blade, imperturbable. When one looked upon him one had the sense of a quiet, coiled spring, or, perhaps better, that of a clever, cunning, coiled, watchful ost. Yet I somehow did not discount Lord Okimoto, or see him as negligible or ineffectual. One might despise his exterior, thinking it pathetic, swollen, and sluggish, that it housed no more than something fat, sly, and ugly, something complacent with power, something which might idly toy with cruelty, but, at the same time, one sensed that somewhere within that mound of flesh something wise and dangerous prowled, as might a larl, impatient, curious, waiting in its lair, not yet emerged to address itself to its hunt, and its fang work. I would not dismiss Lord Okimoto. - (Swordsmen of Gor)