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One could almost smell the breeze, the freshness of the air. - (Prize of Gor, Chapter 4, Sentence #486)

Interested? Surely she had misspoke herself. Surely she had gone too far! Was she feminine? She must not be feminine! Surely it would be wrong for her to be such, to be so female, so simply, so radically, so vulnerably female! Was such not a mere social artifact? But what if it were not a mere social artifact? What if it were something very different, what if it were something very real, something natural, precious, important, and beautiful, something utterly independent of her wishes and indoctrinations, something which, whether she or others approved or not, or wanted it to be or not, she was? And could it be wrong to be what one was? And what might be the consequences of becoming what one was, truly? Could it be so terrible? Or might it not be the most welcome and glorious of liberations? She looked at the wall, to her left, at a picture, a landscape. It seemed a strange landscape, in its way, with gentle yellow trees nestled in a valley, and, in the distance, a range of scarlet mountains. One could almost smell the breeze, the freshness of the air. A strange picture! Surely there was no such place. But what if there were? What would it be to be in such a place? Would not things be different? Perhaps very different? She looked away from the picture. "But how could that be?" she asked, lightly. - (Prize of Gor)