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I did not much care for the prospect of emerging again into the cold, rainy night, of tramping once more through the streets, miserable, chilled to the bone, looking for a place to eat and sleep. - (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter 9, Sentence #93)

They seemed to me to be without energy, without pride, to be flat, dry, crushed men, men without self-respect. "You are of high caste, of the Caste of Warriors," said the proprietor. "It is not proper that you should remain here". I did not much care for the prospect of emerging again into the cold, rainy night, of tramping once more through the streets, miserable, chilled to the bone, looking for a place to eat and sleep. I took a coin from the leather sack and threw it to the proprietor. He snatched it expertly from the air like a skeptical cormorant. He examined the coin. - (Outlaw of Gor)