[And all the while Rincewind spoke, Chilton was just watching him, drinking one long wine-filled sip.]

Oh -- yes.

[After his company indicated interest in the living room.]

This way. So I'm to understand that you've been rather... Lucky. Superficial scars, well, we all have those. Will has about eighty. But, as you said, the paucity of lasting damage is what's so crucial.

I suppose not all of us can be fortune's son.

[The turn of phrase enviously on his tongue.]