Answer:
Three little letters, a paradox to some. The worse that it is, the better it becomes.
I climb higher when hot, But beware my rage, I’ll kill with a breath, If I can escape my cage
They can be harbored, but few hold water. You can nurse them, but only by holding them against someone else. You can carry them, but not with your arms. You can bury them, but not in the earth.
Who makes it, has no need of it. Who buys it, has no use for it. Who uses it can neither see nor feel it. What is it?
What is round as a dishpan, deep as a tub, and still the oceans couldn't fill it up?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?