Answer:
Every dawn begins with me. At dusk I'll be the first you see and daybreak couldn't come without. What midday centers all about. Daises grow from me I'm told. And when I come I end all code but in the sun I won't be found. Yet still each day I'll be around.
You throw away my outside, you cook my inside. Then you eat my outside and you throw away my inside. What am I?
Never ahead, ever behind, yet flying swiftly past; for a child, I last forever; for an adult, I'm gone too fast. What am I?
I have hands but do not hold, teeth but do not bite. Feet I have but they are cold, eyes I have but without sight. What am I?
I am so delicate that even mentioning me breaks me. What am I?
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