Answer:
You throw me out when you want to use me and you take me in when you don't want to use me. Who am I?
What flares up and does a lot of good, and when it dies is just a piece of wood?
It cannot be seen, cannot be felt, Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt. It lies behind stars and under hills And empty holes it fills. It comes first and follows after, Ends life, kills laughter.
As beautiful as the setting sun, as delicate as the morning dew. An angel's dusting from the stars. That can turn the Earth into a frosted moon.
What gets wet while drying?
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?