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She was a female, with her own nature, rich, complex, and deep, with thousands of years behind her of sexual selection and genetic coding, of choices and love, not a piece of vacuous clay to be twisted into a grotesquerie by the intolerant and unhappy, not an empty vessel to be mindlessly filled with noxious brews, destructive concoctions of animosity and trepidation. - (Guardsman of Gor, Chapter 17, Sentence #274)

She was desirable, beautiful and feminine. How could they forgive her such errors, such faults? How could they forgive her her very nature, when it was a veritable defiance of their views, a repudiation of all they stood for, a nature which, by its very existence, contradicted the radical falsities which they desired to promote and from which they hoped to profit? This uniqueness, this isolation, dismayed her on one level, but on another she wanted to repudiate their uglinesses and negativities, and be true to herself, to the natural, inner woman. No longer could she be content with the political parodies and caricatures of womanhood insisted upon in her environment. She was a female, with her own nature, rich, complex, and deep, with thousands of years behind her of sexual selection and genetic coding, of choices and love, not a piece of vacuous clay to be twisted into a grotesquerie by the intolerant and unhappy, not an empty vessel to be mindlessly filled with noxious brews, destructive concoctions of animosity and trepidation. She wanted to be herself. Was that so terrible? But how fearful to slip outside the prescribed travesties and see oneself as one is! So few dare that. And yet, in its way, how welcome, how gloriously liberating it is to do so. - (Guardsman of Gor, Chapter 17)