I am an odd number, and removing one letter makes me even.

I am a seven-letter word. My first two letters refer to a male, my first three letters refer to a female, my first four letters refer to a great man, and my entire word refers to a great woman.

If you have me, you have two of me. If you have one of me, you have none of me. What am I?

I climb when you’re clever, I sink when you’re rude, Yet ever capricious, I'm shaped by the mood. I underlie your words, whatever your view, My home framed in arrows, the choice left to you.

I am the chisel that reveals the statue by taking away. I am the silence that gives the note its purpose. My presence defines all that is here, yet I am not here at all. If you were to name me, you would have to speak of what is not.