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So might a kaiila be praised for lameness, a sleen for the inability to track even a wounded tabuk, a tarn for not daring to spread its wings and fly. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #254)

She was on her knees on the block, sobbing. Surely a slave must realize that a potential buyer is interested in all a slave's properties. Why was she upset, that she had been shown to be healthy, and vital? I then recalled she came from a world in which frigidity and inertness were esteemed, at least publicly, in which formality, withdrawal, hesitation, reticence, fear, and an inability to feel were reckoned matters of merit. So might a kaiila be praised for lameness, a sleen for the inability to track even a wounded tabuk, a tarn for not daring to spread its wings and fly. "Forty-five!" called a fellow from the tiers, below me and to my right. She finally went for forty- eight, forty-eight copper tarsks. I had conjectured that she would bring, as a first sale girl, and a barbarian, a half tarsk, half a silver tarsk. - (Smugglers of Gor)