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It has its thousand rises and falls, its heights and valleys, its fallen timbers and rotting wood, its scarred, blackened trunks and scorched, lightning-fired wastes, its scattered boulders, its bare places, its flowered meadows and blossoming thickets, its crags and cliffs, its rills, and streams and rivers, its rock-cupped ponds, its galleries of tall trees with quiet aisles of leaves between them, its jumbled barriers of nigh- impenetrable brush, its innumerable geodesics, and textures. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 25, Sentence #156)

The ground became softer, and spongy, and water was about my feet. Wet grass, coarse, cut at my ankles. The forest floor is far from uniform. It has its thousand rises and falls, its heights and valleys, its fallen timbers and rotting wood, its scarred, blackened trunks and scorched, lightning-fired wastes, its scattered boulders, its bare places, its flowered meadows and blossoming thickets, its crags and cliffs, its rills, and streams and rivers, its rock-cupped ponds, its galleries of tall trees with quiet aisles of leaves between them, its jumbled barriers of nigh- impenetrable brush, its innumerable geodesics, and textures. There are countries within it. There had been much rain of late. I hoped it might rain again, as that would wash scent away, clearing it from rocks and soil, obliterating trails. - (Smugglers of Gor)