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They are common in the history of worlds. - (Swordsmen of Gor, Chapter 1, Sentence #278)

Who knows the secret thoughts locked in the diary of a woman's dreams? And how few of them would dare to open the pages of that intimate journal to a stranger's perusal. How tragically alone such women are! And how natural it is that they should fear, at first, not to be alone! Many fear even to speak to themselves, let alone another. In her extremity, her elections of certain utterances were, of course, not to be unexpected in a female. They are common in the history of worlds. What have they to bargain with, save their beauty? And will it be enough? Is it sufficient? Is it enough that they will be spared, to be brought, perhaps rather sooner than later, to the sales block? But such a cry was to be expected, not only in any woman at the feet of males, but particularly from one such as she, who, in a thousand ways, I discerned, sensed the fittingness of her position, her prostration. Had she not been so, in one way or another, in her dreams, on the smooth, scarlet tiles of a conqueror's palace, on the deep-piled rug within the tent of a desert chieftain, on the deck of a pirate's vessel? In a pathological culture, of course, many things are kept concealed, often those which are most illuminating and meaningful, most important. She had shortly thereafter explicitly proposed herself as a slave, indeed had pathetically begged bondage. - (Swordsmen of Gor)