I stand tall but have no legs, hold a flower, but have no hands. I'm a plant's support, its central core, what am I, say no more?

In the cradle of salt and sand, a whispering spiral tells tales of distant waves. A souvenir from Poseidon's realm, capturing the ocean's lullaby.

From a cow or mamma’s breast, This white substance is the best

The only thing I can do with this riddle is weep. What am I?

In history, there was a time, when certain thoughts were heinous crimes. We now know the truth, that this is real, we're not the center, of the wheel