Results Details

With annoyance, Torm poked through one of the enormous piles of scrolls and at last, on his hands and knees, fished out one skimpy scroll, set it in the reading device—a metal frame with rollers at the top and bottom—and, pushing a button, spun the scroll to its opening mark, a single sign. - (Tarnsman of Gor, Chapter 3, Sentence #27)

It was this love for his scrolls and for the men who had written them, perhaps centuries before, that most impressed me about Torm. In his way, he linked me, this moment, and himself with generations of men who had pondered on the world and its meaning. Incredible as it may seem, I did not doubt that he was the finest scholar in the City of Cylinders, as my father had said. With annoyance, Torm poked through one of the enormous piles of scrolls and at last, on his hands and knees, fished out one skimpy scroll, set it in the reading device—a metal frame with rollers at the top and bottom—and, pushing a button, spun the scroll to its opening mark, a single sign. "Al-Ka!" said Torm, pointing one long, authoritative finger at the sign. "Al-Ka," he said. "Al-Ka," I repeated. - (Tarnsman of Gor)