A man was born in the year nineteen forty eight and died twenty years later in the year nineteen twenty eight. How is this possible?

You try your best, When the going gets tough, But what if your best, Just ain't good enough? Indecision creeps in, A niggling doubt, Constant struggle within, That you just can't shake out, Often it's paired, With a word meaning frozen, With what do you wrest, Before each option chosen?

I chose a number from out of my sock. This number is another number times the sum of one and four. It’s how many years the grandfather’s clock Stood on the wooden floor.

Could you? Would you? Should you? Do you want an outcome at all? Schrodinger can reveal the answer when you’re ready.

I grow by subtraction, sharpen when challenged, and vanish when assumed. I cannot be stored, only exercised. Measured constantly, yet never directly seen. What am I?