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Sick with grief, and pain, and misery, disturbed and distracted, I had hoped for little more than the self-indulgent gratification of a meaningless sacrifice. - (Rebels of Gor, Chapter 2, Sentence #169)

It could have been the camp of a patrol or kill squad, but it seemed a tiny fire, not that serving several men, contented, sure of themselves, with rice boiling in the helmet. It had been positioned such that it could be seen only from the air. I had failed to think clearly. Sick with grief, and pain, and misery, disturbed and distracted, I had hoped for little more than the self-indulgent gratification of a meaningless sacrifice. I was unworthy of the scarlet, I had betrayed my responsibilities and the remnants of my command. Was this not a treason compared to which my lapse in the marshes was meaningless? I was still the commander of the tarn cavalry, however torn and depleted it might be. There lay my duty, which, for the sake of a childish vanity, I had been on the point of forswearing. - (Rebels of Gor)