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One might even feel a little sorry for such a fellow, so miserable, so stung with remorse, so self-castigating, and self-torturing. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 13, Sentence #43)

He would not escape my wrath. I would visit upon him my contempt and hatred, the fearful indignation of a proud woman of Earth, whose temper was to be feared, whose scorn was to be dreaded. Doubtless he had already suffered for days recalling his indiscretion, and was now desperate to beg my forgiveness. One might even feel a little sorry for such a fellow, so miserable, so stung with remorse, so self-castigating, and self-torturing. Perhaps, I thought, I might even hint, mercifully, that, in time, say, a long time, I might relent and forgive him, after which we might consider arranging a suitable, meaningful relationship, founded on respect and equality. After all, was he not a male of Earth, another pathetic, manipulable male fool, putty in the hands of a clever woman such as I? Surely I could arrange matters to my satisfaction. But these thoughts, so natural to the promptings of my terrestrial indoctrination, my Earth training, the dictates of a pathological conditioning regimen, had almost immediately been swept aside. - (Quarry of Gor)