He struggled with himself, his simple wide face twisted in agony, his eyes tortured.
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137
"May the priest-kings forgive me!" he cried.
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138
He threw down the ax, which rang on the stones of the road to Ko-ro-ba.
3
139
Zosk sank down and sat cross-legged in the road, his gigantic frame shaken with sobs, his massive head buried in his hands, his thick, guttural voice moaning with distress.
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140
At such a time a man may not be spoken to, for according to the Gorean way of thinking pity humiliates both he who pities and he who is pitied.
I made no move to defend myself.
Somehow I knew Zosk would not strike.
He struggled with himself, his simple wide face twisted in agony, his eyes tortured.
"May the priest-kings forgive me!" he cried.
He threw down the ax, which rang on the stones of the road to Ko-ro-ba.
Zosk sank down and sat cross-legged in the road, his gigantic frame shaken with sobs, his massive head buried in his hands, his thick, guttural voice moaning with distress.
At such a time a man may not be spoken to, for according to the Gorean way of thinking pity humiliates both he who pities and he who is pitied.
- (Outlaw of Gor, Chapter )