I smell gas.

I smell gas.

I can't smell anything.

I don't smell anything.

I can smell flowers.

I can smell cookies.

I can smell biscuits.

I smell coffee.

I smell manflesh.

Mmm. I smell food.

Do I smell meat cooking?

No.

I smell something rotten.

Is that lavender I smell?

I smell a rat!

Fee, fi, fo, fum. I smell the blood of an Englishman.

I smell good too.

I smell oxtail soup again.

What's that I smell?

It's me. I smell like rotting flesh.

Smell like a man.

I smell with my nose.

Smell this flower.

I think I smell smoke.

I smell turkey acookin'.

You know, I still smell of mothballs.

This is it. I cana smell 'em.

I can still enjoy the smell of it.

Breathing the smell of your stinkin' feet!

I can already smell yours.

Why does he smell like crying?

Or do I smell some doubt in the room?

I think I smell a rabbit!

I smell alcohol on your breath.

I can spot them a mile away.

I just can't smell Hitler in him.

There are little kiddies in the air!

I can smell fresh bread on you.

Smell that on you, too.

Thought I smelled pigs.

I probably smell it operating. (Laughter)

Precisely. I smell the faint, sweet odor of blackmail.

He's so fussy about the way I smell.

I have a feeling that there's something funny about it.

Remarkably like that of the flowers of the Spanish chestnut.