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To what end might one remonstrate with a living anvil, or winter, or hunger, or a quiescent volcano which, jarred, might speak with fire? The Lady Bina had now left the room, crossing the threshold to her chamber. - (Conspirators of Gor, Chapter 14, Sentence #76)

At other times, however, one sensed an adamancy in that imposing form, an alarming core of bestial will which would brook neither compromise nor deviation, no more than tides and seasons, a will behind which lay the instincts, the blood, the fangs, and claws, of Kurii. At such times, the Lady Bina would remain silent, and, resignedly, gracefully, withdraw. She was apparently familiar with such things from the metal worlds of which she had spoken. To what end might one remonstrate with a living anvil, or winter, or hunger, or a quiescent volcano which, jarred, might speak with fire? The Lady Bina had now left the room, crossing the threshold to her chamber. It was at such times that it seemed to me that it was she, and not he, who was the pet. In any event, I had long been aware that in matters of moment, or times of crisis, there was but one voice and one will in the domicile, that of the beast. I did not think the beast would kill me in the presence of the Lady Bina. - (Conspirators of Gor)