Book 4. (1 results) Nomads of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | 39 | For some minutes I stood silently observing the animals and the men who pressed toward Turia, invisible over the brown horizon. |
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Book 4. (7 results) Nomads of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | 36 | No caravans, to my knowledge, make their way to the Wagon Peoples, who are largely isolated and have their own way of life. |
| 1 | 37 | I left the caravan before it reached Turia. |
| 1 | 38 | My business was with the Wagon Peoples, not the Turians, said to be indolent and luxury-loving; but I wonder at this charge, for Turia has stood for generations on the plains claimed by the fierce Wagon Peoples. |
| 1 | 39 | For some minutes I stood silently observing the animals and the men who pressed toward Turia, invisible over the brown horizon. |
| 1 | 40 | I found it hard to understand their terror. |
| 1 | 41 | Even the autumn grass itself bent and shook in brown tides toward Turia, shimmering in the sun like a tawny surf beneath the fleeing clouds above; it was as though the unseen wind itself, frantic volumes and motions of simple air, too desired its sanctuary behind the high walls of the far city. |
| 1 | 42 | Overhead a wild Gorean kite, shrilling, beat its lonely way from this place, seemingly no different from a thousand other places on these broad grasslands of the south. |
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No caravans, to my knowledge, make their way to the Wagon Peoples, who are largely isolated and have their own way of life.
I left the caravan before it reached Turia.
My business was with the Wagon Peoples, not the Turians, said to be indolent and luxury-loving; but I wonder at this charge, for Turia has stood for generations on the plains claimed by the fierce Wagon Peoples.
For some minutes I stood silently observing the animals and the men who pressed toward Turia, invisible over the brown horizon.
I found it hard to understand their terror.
Even the autumn grass itself bent and shook in brown tides toward Turia, shimmering in the sun like a tawny surf beneath the fleeing clouds above; it was as though the unseen wind itself, frantic volumes and motions of simple air, too desired its sanctuary behind the high walls of the far city.
Overhead a wild Gorean kite, shrilling, beat its lonely way from this place, seemingly no different from a thousand other places on these broad grasslands of the south.
- (Nomads of Gor, Chapter 1)