“The name of truth all prize; the face of truth most fear. Yet I think the nature of truth is not that terrible. It is just that it is different, and more beautiful than the lies.”
- John Norman, Renegades of Gor, DAW page 100
Month: May 2016
Purpose
“Gorean morality, for all its faults, is designed to make people free and great.”
- John Norman, Marauders of Gor, DAW page 13
What did you think of this?
Tolerance
“Let those who can climb mountains climb them; let those who cannot climb them console themselves with denying their existence.”
- John Norman, Rogue of Gor, DAW page 19
What did you think of this?
Personal Sovereignty
“Within the circle of each man’s sword,” say the codes of the warrior, “therein is each man an Ubar”
— John Norman, Marauders of Gor, DAW page 9
What did you think of this?
The Song Of The Soldiers
By Walter De La Mare As I sat musing by the frozen dyke, There was a man marching with a bright steel pike, Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he, And behind me was the moaning and the murmur Of the sea. As I sat musing, ’twas not one but ten — — Rank on…
What did you think of this?
The Portrait of a Warrior
By Walter De La Mare His brow is seamed with line and scar; His cheek is red and dark as wine; The fires as of a Northern star Beneath his cap of sable shine. His right hand, bared of leathern glove, Hangs open like an iron gin, You stoop to see his pulses move, To hear the…
What did you think of this?
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Purpose
“Gorean morality, for all its faults, is designed to make people free and great.”
- John Norman, Marauders of Gor, DAW page 13
Tolerance
“Let those who can climb mountains climb them; let those who cannot climb them console themselves with denying their existence.”
- John Norman, Rogue of Gor, DAW page 19
Personal Sovereignty
“Within the circle of each man’s sword,” say the codes of the warrior, “therein is each man an Ubar”
— John Norman, Marauders of Gor, DAW page 9
The Song Of The Soldiers
By Walter De La Mare As I sat musing by the frozen dyke, There was a man marching with a bright steel pike, Marching in the dayshine like a ghost came he, And behind me was the moaning and the murmur Of the sea. As I sat musing, ’twas not one but ten — — Rank on…
The Portrait of a Warrior
By Walter De La Mare His brow is seamed with line and scar; His cheek is red and dark as wine; The fires as of a Northern star Beneath his cap of sable shine. His right hand, bared of leathern glove, Hangs open like an iron gin, You stoop to see his pulses move, To hear the…