I wear many coats though I’m not for the cold, I make strong folks cry, though I’m timid and old. Chop me to bits, I’ll still flavour your bowl

A man was born in the year nineteen forty eight and died twenty years later in the year nineteen twenty eight. How is this possible?

I sound like I smell worse, than that rose or daisy word. Don't fall into my trap, It's literally for the birds

Forryglands of landryfrog, Fill with gibberish stuff, Flibbertinoose's lip looses, Pours out meaningless puffs, What word would a fickler use to describe, Definition-less language, jabberwocky and jive?

I come in a lot of different sizes. Sometimes, I drip a little. If you blow me, it feels really good. What am I?