Answer:
Always old, sometimes new. Never sad, sometimes blue. Never empty, sometimes full. Never pushes, always pulls.
When there is fire in me then I am still cold. When I own your true love’s face then you will not see me. To all things I give no more than I am given. In time I may have all things, and yet I can keep nothing.
What has a big mouth, yet never speaks?
I fly through the air on small feathered wings, seeking out life and destroying all things.
What do people want the least on their hands?
What is so fragile that saying its name breaks it?