Plucked from a fruit, bitter like a root, burning and bold, or even cold when sold. What am I?
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Thirty white horses on a red hill. First they champ, then they stamp, then they stand still. What am I?
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I am a seed with three letters in my name. Take away the last two and I still sound the same. What am I?
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They made me a mouth but didnt give me breath. Water gives me life but the sun brings me death. What am I?
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