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.
This only turns over once you have traveled very far. What is it?
When it comes in, From sea to shore, Twenty paces you'll see, No less, no more.
Dies half its life. Lives the rest. Dances without music. Breathes without breath.
I can be used to type and point you see. But don't forget, you can count on me. What am I?
Lynn likes grapes but not potatoes. She likes squash but not lettuce, and she likes peas but not onions. Following the same rule, will she like pumpkins or apples?