Book 33. (1 results) Rebels of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 17 | 49 | "Why can there not be grace and beauty in all things," he said, "the curve of a spoon, the touch of ink on silk, the arrangement of flowers, such things?" "Perhaps even," I said, "in the flight of an arrow, the stroke of a sword". |
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Book 33. (7 results) Rebels of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 17 | 46 | "Might you say it is beautiful?" he asked. |
| 17 | 47 | "Perhaps," I said. |
| 17 | 48 | "But the arrow can kill". |
| 17 | 49 | "Why can there not be grace and beauty in all things," he said, "the curve of a spoon, the touch of ink on silk, the arrangement of flowers, such things?" "Perhaps even," I said, "in the flight of an arrow, the stroke of a sword". |
| 17 | 50 | "Of course," he said. |
| 17 | 51 | I had thought of the frightening, martial grace of a swordsman faraway, a short, unkempt, thickly bodied, ugly man known as Nodachi, Sword, ugly save when his blade was drawn, and his unprepossessing persona seemed somehow enlarged and transformed, transformed into something different, something awesome, something very still, a cloud which might conceal lightning, a night from which a beast might spring, something which, in its way, was, like the crouching, observant larl, both terrifying and beautiful. |
| 17 | 52 | "But you must not understand the beauty of this form of archery as a mere cultural oddity," he said, "or a whim of fashion like the color of sandals or the cut of a garment. |
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"Might you say it is beautiful?" he asked.
"Perhaps," I said.
"But the arrow can kill".
"Why can there not be grace and beauty in all things," he said, "the curve of a spoon, the touch of ink on silk, the arrangement of flowers, such things?" "Perhaps even," I said, "in the flight of an arrow, the stroke of a sword".
"Of course," he said.
I had thought of the frightening, martial grace of a swordsman faraway, a short, unkempt, thickly bodied, ugly man known as Nodachi, Sword, ugly save when his blade was drawn, and his unprepossessing persona seemed somehow enlarged and transformed, transformed into something different, something awesome, something very still, a cloud which might conceal lightning, a night from which a beast might spring, something which, in its way, was, like the crouching, observant larl, both terrifying and beautiful.
"But you must not understand the beauty of this form of archery as a mere cultural oddity," he said, "or a whim of fashion like the color of sandals or the cut of a garment.
- (Rebels of Gor, Chapter 17)