This is a thorny one. Pronounce it one way and it's a wine. Another way and it's handed to racers when they've won. Juliet described it's smell as sweet, almost divine.

Walt Whitman said it best: keep your face to the sun, and this will follow. Only one figure is known to have lost it, though he chased it. We all have one, and sometimes more than one, at the same time, but we also have none.

What glides gracefully in a lake? Soaring and swimming it’s own ballet. Long and slender, but not a goose. A tragic dance, no happy end.

If I wreathe your door, you better watch out! I can lap, I can lick, with my tongue long or stout. My hunger's voracious the more food the more I prosper With a 'b' before my last letter, I'm how one makes bananas foster.

My name is a lie, but that is not all: my shape, my outsides, my insides, my whole existence. I’m advertised as this, but the name is quite off base. Still, it’s fun to watch reactions during first-time tasting sessions.