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Much thought, much art, much arrangement, much planning, goes into a park, a garden. - (Mariners of Gor, Chapter 10, Sentence #70)

But before she was not owned, was not in her place in nature, as a female, was not before in a man's collar. Why is it she was never aware of this glory before? Surely wind had always whispered in the tall green grass, and stirred the shimmering leaves of the Tur tree. And in the public garden she only now becomes aware, following her master, heeling him, that the rich sequence of blossoms is not only arranged like music, with its color, tint into tint, shade into shade, tone into tone, to dramatically enhance the delight of a walk, but there is another music, as well, a planned melody of scent. Much thought, much art, much arrangement, much planning, goes into a park, a garden. And how beautiful are the towers against the evening, stormy sky, the light of Tor-tu-Gor half hidden in the dark clouds. Did she never notice before the stateliness of a kaiila's gait, that sinuous movement of a sleen's spine, as it moves, avoiding open spaces, the tidelike mightiness of a tarn's wing, as it preens. And the world becomes so rich, too, to the touch, to the fingertips, the feet, the lips, the body. - (Mariners of Gor)