Answer:
I cannot be felt, seen or touched. Yet I can be found in everybody. My existence is always in debate, yet I have my own style of music. What am I?
I must be broken before you can use me.
I am a fruit with seed on the outside.
Born of sorrow, grows with age, you need a lot to be a sage. What is it?
I will disappear every time you say my name.
What always comes into the house through the keyhole?