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It is, my dear, what you are". "How reductive!" she said. "Not at all," I said, "and in your case, I fear it is clearly, and considerably, ampliative". How she had restricted and denied herself! With what narrowness and improverishment she had conceived herself! How little she had seen of herself, and what she might be! She did not know herself. In effect, she had been told she did not exist, and had been foolish enough to believe it. Did she think her sex, her richness and beauty, and needs, were mere contigencies, tangential to her being? She seemed much the victim of the neuterizing propagandas of a dry, thin, intellectually ugly world, the dupe of lies designed to conceal herself from herself, whose intent was to enlist her as a self-betraying ideological tool, whose only permitted purpose in life was to serve the ambitions of, and promote the schemes of, distant others, to whom she would never be more than a remote convenience, only another of thousands of ignored minions, no more than another unnoticed, anonymous, expendable menial, another unrecognized, exploited, managed, herded beast lost in the wars of others. The carts she had been trained to draw so meaninglessly, so laboriously, had been filled with the stones of ignorance and hatred. - (Beasts of Gor, Chapter )