Book 32. (1 results) Smugglers of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 15 | 480 | Would it not be an island of wood, a world of sorts, sufficient onto itself, indefinitely scorning land, cresting indefinitely the dark turbulence of proud, dreadful, beautiful thassa? "Kneel," said a stern voice, and I instantly knelt. |
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Book 32. (7 results) Smugglers of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 15 | 477 | Better to transport troops, I thought, would be smaller ships, a fleet of such. |
| 15 | 478 | Who would care to risk an army, perhaps a war, by entrusting it to a single mount, to but one vehicle, to but one vessel? But thassa, I supposed, vast thassa, might lift her hand, and smash a fleet as well as a single vessel, and, I suspected, a mighty vessel might brave her wrath where a hundred common barks might perish in the sea. |
| 15 | 479 | Too, what an enormous store of supplies might be housed in so mighty a vessel, supplies which might last years. |
| 15 | 480 | Would it not be an island of wood, a world of sorts, sufficient onto itself, indefinitely scorning land, cresting indefinitely the dark turbulence of proud, dreadful, beautiful thassa? "Kneel," said a stern voice, and I instantly knelt. |
| 15 | 481 | I felt the boards of the dock on my knees. |
| 15 | 482 | I kept my head down, and clutched the bota. |
| 15 | 483 | "Head up," he said, and I was permitted to lift my head. |
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Better to transport troops, I thought, would be smaller ships, a fleet of such.
Who would care to risk an army, perhaps a war, by entrusting it to a single mount, to but one vehicle, to but one vessel? But thassa, I supposed, vast thassa, might lift her hand, and smash a fleet as well as a single vessel, and, I suspected, a mighty vessel might brave her wrath where a hundred common barks might perish in the sea.
Too, what an enormous store of supplies might be housed in so mighty a vessel, supplies which might last years.
Would it not be an island of wood, a world of sorts, sufficient onto itself, indefinitely scorning land, cresting indefinitely the dark turbulence of proud, dreadful, beautiful thassa? "Kneel," said a stern voice, and I instantly knelt.
I felt the boards of the dock on my knees.
I kept my head down, and clutched the bota.
"Head up," he said, and I was permitted to lift my head.
- (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 15)