I’m born of fire, hardened by time, yet crushed for homes in every clime. No soil I need, no roots to grow, but builders prize me high and low. What am I?

Heard in stories of the night, from the brush of leaves, a fright. Wind and canopy’s sounding fight. Card shifting, lifting flicks of delight. An actor named Crowe, just his first, sounds alike.

I exist simply because I can't take the pressure. It's too much, man. I just gotta erupt and let off some steam, but if I don't, then things are just quiet. TOO quiet.... I want to live, not just be named and sometimes timed, if I'm consistent enough! And even though I don't spit fire, people don't take me seriously and they get way too close. Darwin Award winners.

Will you, please, stop that! Please, stop that! I should've gotten a dog.... Should've gotten a dog.

Vocal hubris was their admission: God himself could not sink this ship. The crewmen declared before they sailed. They could have avoided collision, but in human error their vision did slip, your answer is why their voyage failed.