I might be a man I might be a house I might be a hat I might be a bed The only thing for certain is that I come from the ground

One of me is built from wood, another wears a mask and hood. Though little else is quite the same, both answers share a common name.

I am a mix of two things. Created by wealth but bad for your health. I block something bright and taint the night. What am I?

Diogenes carried me without owning me. Zeno could never finish crossing me. Borges filled me with libraries, yet left me unexplored. Empires claimed me, cartographers scarred me. I am measured but never held, occupied yet never grasped, divided but never cut. Every kingdom begins with me, and every grave receives me. What am I?

I can have holes, but I'm no sponge I can have armor, but I'm no knight I'm where you're scheduled to be buried If you've lost me, you don't know what you're doing