Answer:
I am enjoyed with a pot and some pointy sticks.
The more you take of me the more you leave behind.
Squeeze me and I cry tears as red as my flesh, but my heart is made of stone. What am I?
I have every color but no gold.
Man walks over, man walks under, in times of war he burns asunder. What is it?
I flow from the Homerβs mouth when he sees doughnuts.