When young, I am sweet in the sun. When middle-aged, I make you gay. When old, I am valued more than ever.

I cannot hear or even see, But sense light and sounds there may be, Sometimes I end up on a hook, I can be combined with a book. What am I?

With pointed fangs it sits in wait, With piercing force it doles out fate, Over bloodless victims proclaiming its might, Eternally joining in a single bite. What is it?

What starts with a P, ends with an E and has a million letters in it?

What type of house weighs the least?

What kind of room doesn't have physical walls?

What kind of room has no doors or windows?

What goes up and down without moving?

Which popular cheese is made backwards?

What fastens two people yet touches only one?

What has a foot but no leg?

What stinks when living and smells good when dead?

What's red and bad for your teeth?

What is it that no man wants, but no man wants to lose?

What does an old tan broken down house wear outside?

Which tree is the most difficult to get along with?

What kind of street does a ghost like best?

When you do not know what I am, then I am something. But when you know what I am, then I am nothing. What am I?

What takes hours to pull off, Is most satisfying when it's done, And requires consent from the person you're doing it to?

All day long it's in and out. I discharge loads from my shaft. Both men and women go down on me. What am I?