Answer:
High born, my touch is gentle. Purest white is my lace. Silence is my kingdom. Green is the color of my death.
It is the great nemesis of the lactose intolerant.
You'll see savory dishes in Hong Kong sizzling in these.
A little house full of meat, no door to go in and eat.
A girl was ten on her last birthday, and will be twelve on her next birthday. How is this possible?
What covers its face with its hands, speaks no language, yet most known what it's saying?