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Who wishes to be returned to a former master for condign punishment, as is almost invariably the case; and who would wish to fall into the hands of a new, apprehending master, who, recognizing us as a fugitive, would doubtless plunge us into a slavery far more confining and cruel than that from which we fled? Woe to the woman who is kept, or clandestinely sold, as a runaway! How far I was from my former life. - (Quarry of Gor, Chapter 11, Sentence #206)

There is nowhere for us to run, nowhere to which we might escape. We are goods. The culture wants us as slaves, and will keep us as slaves. Who wishes to be returned to a former master for condign punishment, as is almost invariably the case; and who would wish to fall into the hands of a new, apprehending master, who, recognizing us as a fugitive, would doubtless plunge us into a slavery far more confining and cruel than that from which we fled? Woe to the woman who is kept, or clandestinely sold, as a runaway! How far I was from my former life. How helpless I was! "Ho, Zia!" I heard. I smelled fresh bread. Almost all bread on Gor is fresh, as it is frequently baked. - (Quarry of Gor)