Book 3. (1 results) Priest-Kings of Gor (Individual Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 34 | 7 | But the little fellow's sandy hair and pale, watery eyes were hidden in the vast sleeve of his blue robe as he leaned against my side and wept unabashedly. |
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Book 3. (7 results) Priest-Kings of Gor (Context Quote)
| Chapter # | Sentence # | Quote |
|---|---|---|
| 34 | 4 | I felt a sudden blow on my back and nearly lost my breath and twisted to see the gigantic, brawny Older Tarl, my former Master at Arms, who clapped me on the shoulders, his hands like the talons of tarns. |
| 34 | 5 | There was a tugging at my sleeve and a blubbering and I looked down and nearly poked a scroll in my eye which was carried by the small blue-clad figure at my side. |
| 34 | 6 | "Torm!" I cried. |
| 34 | 7 | But the little fellow's sandy hair and pale, watery eyes were hidden in the vast sleeve of his blue robe as he leaned against my side and wept unabashedly. |
| 34 | 8 | "You will stain your scroll," I cautioned him. |
| 34 | 9 | Without looking up or missing a sob he shifted the scroll to a new position under his other arm. |
| 34 | 10 | I swept him off his feet and spun him around and the robes flew from his head and Torm of the Caste of Scribes cried aloud in joy and that sandy hair wheeled in the wind and tears ran sideways down his face and he never lost hold of the scroll although he nearly batted the Older Tarl with it in one of his orbits and then he began to sneeze and I gently put him down. |
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I felt a sudden blow on my back and nearly lost my breath and twisted to see the gigantic, brawny Older Tarl, my former Master at Arms, who clapped me on the shoulders, his hands like the talons of tarns.
There was a tugging at my sleeve and a blubbering and I looked down and nearly poked a scroll in my eye which was carried by the small blue-clad figure at my side.
"Torm!" I cried.
But the little fellow's sandy hair and pale, watery eyes were hidden in the vast sleeve of his blue robe as he leaned against my side and wept unabashedly.
"You will stain your scroll," I cautioned him.
Without looking up or missing a sob he shifted the scroll to a new position under his other arm.
I swept him off his feet and spun him around and the robes flew from his head and Torm of the Caste of Scribes cried aloud in joy and that sandy hair wheeled in the wind and tears ran sideways down his face and he never lost hold of the scroll although he nearly batted the Older Tarl with it in one of his orbits and then he began to sneeze and I gently put him down.
- (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 34)