Answer:
What flares up and does a lot of good, and when it dies is just a piece of wood?
What does man love more than life, fear more than death or mortal strife. What the poor have, the rich require, and what contented men desire. What the miser spends, and the spendthrift saves. And all men carry to their graves.
You can read it both ways, I wearΝΎ One way it's a number, reversed a snare.
Look into my face and I'm everybody. Scratch my back and I'm nobody.
It is the great nemesis of the lactose intolerant.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.