Answer:
The higher I climb, the hotter I engage. I cannot escape my crystal cage. What am I?
I always follow you around, everywhere you go at night. I look very bright to people, but I can make the sun dark. What am I?
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.
The more you have me, the less you see. Shine a light on me and I flee. What am I?
I'm not really more than holes tied to more holes; I'm strong as good steel, though not as stiff as a pole.
What do people want the least on their hands?