Not from sun, yet still I gleam, a quiet night’s reflected beam.

If you use me in moderation, you’ll feel fine; if you use me every day, I’ll do you harm and leave you with lasting effects.

my golden oil can be considered a sacrifice in a volcano, cultivated by the gods of olympus. What am I?

What kind of milk do you get from a cow that’s been udderly pampered?

I'm soft and comfy, and I'm known to keep you warm, though your arms remain free, of my supple embrace. Now I hope you see the answer, but don't forget one thing, that second letter E, should in fact be an A. I stretch across large areas, I am sorry to confuse, I wanted to see, who can read better than me.