The Gods of Mars

Weakly I rose for the last time—my tortured lungs gasped for the breath that would fill them with a strange and numbing element, but instead I felt the revivifying breath of life-giving air surge through my starving nostrils into my dying lungs. I was saved

In that little party there was not one who would desert another; yet we were of different countries, different colours, different races, different religions—and one of us was of a different world

A long life has taught me that a man may seem weak where women and children are concerned and yet be anything but a weakling in the sterner avenues of life

"We are a non-productive race, priding ourselves upon our non-productiveness. It is criminal for a First Born to labour or invent. That is the work of the lower orders, who live merely that the First Born may enjoy long lives of luxury and idleness.

One is not astonished by cruelty in a hideous face, but when it touches the features of a goddess whose fine-chiselled lineaments might more fittingly portray love and beauty, the contrast is appalling.

half the guards at the gate that night had been therns disguised as red men.

He was a Holy Thern," said Xodar. "Fortunate indeed it is for us that he did not escape."

It was agreed that the battleships that were to be remodelled should be ordered to Hastor, another Heliumetic city, far to the south-west.

She was Thuvia, the Princess of Ptarth

Sola, had accompanied Dejah Thoris upon the last long pilgrimage