Bright as a blush in the morning sun, I hide my seeds where most have none. Sweet on the tongue, in gardens I grow. Name me, the berry with freckles in rows. What am I?

I go through phases, yet I always stay the same. What am I?

Horses are pointless. I'm a mythical white version, with a point.

It's sometimes in traffic It's sometimes on bread It's stuck in a printer Or a song in your head What am I?

My maths teacher told me that altering an integral relating to a triangle was wrong. What did that leave me doing?