Feed me and I live, give me drink and I die.
What am I?
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The beginning of eternity, the end of time and space, the beginning of every end, and the end of every place.
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Poke your fingers in my eyes and I will open wide my jaws. Linen cloth, quills, or paper, my greedy lust devours them all.
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What belongs to you but others use it more than you do?
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What holds water yet is full of holes?
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I never was, am always to be, none ever saw me, nor ever will, and yet I am the confidence of all who live and breathe on this terrestrial ball.
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I drive men mad for love of me, easily beaten, never free. What am I?