Answer:
Gold in a leather bag, swinging on a tree, money after honey in its time. Ills of a scurvy crew cured by the sea, reason in its season but no rhyme.
I'm the source of all emotion, but I'm caged in a white prison.
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
A great mysterious place that the bold have been known to journey into.
I fly, yet I have no wings. I cry, yet I have no eyes. Darkness follows me. Lower light I never see.
Lynn likes grapes but not potatoes. She likes squash but not lettuce, and she likes peas but not onions. Following the same rule, will she like pumpkins or apples?