Answer:
I think you live beneath a roof that is upheld by me; I think you seldom walk abroad but my fair form you see; I close you in on every side you very dwelling pave and probably I'll go with you At last into the grave.
I run up and down the stairs without moving. What am I?
I can't go left, I can't go right. I am forever stuck in a building over three stories high. What am I?
Adored by few, feared and hated by many. Mistress of the entire universal reason, master in the art of numbers. Some may have solved many of my mysteries, but there are still many of them to find. What am I?
I love to twist and dance. Though wingless I fly high up into the sky.
Almost everyone needs it, asks for it, gives it. But almost nobody takes it.