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Belît sprang before the blacks, beating down their spears. She turned toward Conan, her bosom heaving, her eyes flashing. Fierce fingers of wonder ca… - Robert E. Howard
" "Belît sprang before the blacks, beating down their spears. She turned toward Conan, her bosom heaving, her eyes flashing. Fierce fingers of wonder caught at his heart. She was slender, yet formed like a goddess: at once lithe and voluptuous. Her only garment was a broad silken girdle. Her white ivory limbs and the ivory globes of her breasts drove a beat of fierce passion through the Cimmerian's pulse, even in the panting fury of battle. Her rich black hair, black as a Stygian night, fell in rippling burnished clusters down her supple back. Her dark eyes burned on the Cimmerian. She was untamed as a desert wind, supple and dangerous as a she-panther. She came close to him, heedless of his great blade, dripping with blood of her warriors. Her supple thigh brushed against it, so close she came to the tall warrior. Her red lips parted as she stared up into his somber menacing eyes.
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About Robert E. Howard
Robert Ervin Howard (22 January 1906 – 11 June 1936) was an American writer of fantasy and historical adventure pulp stories, published primarily in Weird Tales magazine in the 1930s.
Biography information from Wikiquote
Also Known As
Pen Names:
Patrick Ervin
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Sam Walser
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Patrick Mac Conaire
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Steve Costigan
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Patrick Howard
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John Taverel
Birth Name:
Robert Ervin Howard
Alternative Names:
REH
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R. E. Howard
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Robert Howard
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Two-Gun Bob
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Bob Howard
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Additional quotes by Robert E. Howard
Conan did not hesitate, nor did he even glance toward the chest that held the wealth of an epoch. With a quickness that would have shamed the spring of a hungry jaguar, he swooped, grasped the girl's arm just as her fingers slipped from the smooth stone, and snatched her up on the span with one explosive heave.
Like you, the Sagas of Norse Gods and heroes fascinate me. Their mythology seems more characteristically Nordic than any other-naturally, of course. I still feel deep resentment toward Charlemagne for his bloody conversion of the Nordic pagans – and while I do not consider that it was revenge for his ruthless crusade that sent the more remote Norsemen sweeping down to ravage the south – it was more likely a natural result of growth and expansion and press of population – still I can appreciate the feelings of those Odin-worshippers who destroyed shrine and monastery and burned priests in the ruins of their altars.
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