Riddle: 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 misers spend, and spendthrifts save, And all men carry to the grave?
Riddle: My host thinks I'm an irritation, a bother, a pain. But he can't evict me, so here I will remain. Then one day I'm taken and ranked among my peers. Can you guess just what I am? Then you might call me dear.
Riddle: I can be created by humans,
But they cannot control me.
I suck on wood, paper and flesh alike.
I can be more of a hindrance than help at times.
To my creators, I seem to be everywhere at once.
What am I?