“The unpleasant, acrid smell of burnt poetry.”

“An inferior sense of smell," Marcus said, as if absolutely nothing of significance had happened, "is distinct from being told that one smells unpleasant.”

“the sweet heavy smell grew very much less. For though the whole fire had not been put out, a good bit of it had, and what remained smelled very largely of burnt Marsh-wiggle, which is not at all an enchanting smell.”

“A faint acrid smell drifted in through the window, from the cannon fire. But through it all the walls of my prison cell never trembled. The walls of the Tower are the thickest in the land and they never, ever tremble”

“The air was stifling, but he liked it because it was stifling city air, full of excitingly unpleasant smells, dangerous music, and the distant sound of warring police tribes.”

“I don't want to turn any of this into poetry / but / you're so beautiful / flowers turn their heads to smell you”