To most I am everything, Yet to many I am missing. To most I give power and health, Yet to many I bring grief and death. What am I?
Might be the money.
I have many tongues but cannot taste. By me, most things are turned to waste. I crack and snap yet I stay whole. I may take the largest toll. I assisted all of the first men and I will pay them back again. Around me people snuggle and sleep yet run when I am released from my keep. I jump around and leap and bound. The cold man wishes I, he had found. What am I?
He can bring you joy, sorrow, or everything in between. None have seen, smelt or felt him, yet many still know what he is. He has many types, but he is really just one thing. What is he ?
