"It means that even though I'm not a ghost, I can conduct myself as one. It's why I can Fade, and why I'm not happy with the man standing behind you. Shoo, you're a poet, not a pervert."
"My good man," the ghost behind Sable said, "I doubt there's a difference between the two, and furthermore, I haven't seen a living woman in about a hundred years. They smell different."
"You can't smell. Shoo. Have you seen the Lady on the Grey?" Bod knew Sable wasn't hearing the poet's half of the conversation, nor to where the poet pointed - a white haired woman atop a white horse.