Dig into the diffs behind the wikied bits in the Gogolian Gnarledge Graaf, then breathe gently through anyone's nose upon the frozen words you find. You may smell:

• barking dogs,
• howling hounds,
• nine (or more!) ghosts of Socks the cat
• & four parking-lot ponies being flogged by the faux-nez writers of the apocalypse.

(expurgated from the Guide)

This userbox is crooked.

Rabelais, "Paroles gelées", 1552.

En plein mer, nous banquetant, grignotant, devisant, et faisant beau et court discours...
Le pilot feist responce : Seigneur, de rien ne vous effrayez. Icy est le confin de la mer glaciale,
  sus laquelle feut au commencement de l’hyver dernier passé grosse & felonne bataille
   entre les Arispammiens & les Nephelibarres.

Sales & Cruft, The Hummingbird Wobblies, 2023.

Their wings make up to seventy edits to the air per second.