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He had stirred such emotion, such rage, such hatred, in me that I would not have believed it possible. - (Slave Girl of Gor, Chapter 21, Sentence #15)

I, a worthless slave girl, in her vanity and pettiness, had laid low not only a warrior, but my own beloved. What mattered it that he cared naught for me, that I was but rude collar meat in his mighty hands? It mattered nothing. I loved him more deeply than I realized one could love. He had stirred such emotion, such rage, such hatred, in me that I would not have believed it possible. I had lived for my vengeance, dreaming of it, and, when I had attained it, I found it only misery and ashes, and unspeakable anguish, for it had cost me my very self, he whom I loved, Clitus Vitellius of the city of Ar. The men in the tavern, and the girls, too, had been pleased that I had designated Clitus Vitellius. How excited and pleased all had been. - (Slave Girl of Gor)