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"Primitive," said Sarm, regarding the club of steel which he held, and then he looked down at me, his antennae curling, "but fitting". - (Priest-Kings of Gor, Chapter 31, Sentence #174)

He swung this lightly, as easily as I might have lifted and moved a stick of wood. The bar he wielded was a fearsome weapon and with it he could strike me from the walkway, hurling me perhaps two hundred feet to the opposite wall, before I could get within yards of him. I stepped back and Sarm advanced a delicate pace. "Primitive," said Sarm, regarding the club of steel which he held, and then he looked down at me, his antennae curling, "but fitting". I knew I could not retreat back down the walkway for Sarm was much faster than I and would be upon me perhaps even before I could turn. I could not leap to the sides, for there was only the smooth sheer curve of the blue globe and I would slide to my death and fall like one of the stones from the roof above to the dusty, smoking rubble below. And ahead of me stood Sarm, his club ready. - (Priest-Kings of Gor)