Answer:
In Paris but not in France, the thinnest of its siblings.
Voiceless it cries, wingless flutters, toothless bites, mouthless mutters.
What weaves webs as they grow?
As destructive as life, As healing as death; An institutioner of strife, Just as prone to bless. It is all that is good, Yet with an evil trend; As it was the beginning of things, It can also be the end.
You eat something you neither plant nor plow. It is the son of water, but if water touches it, it dies.
What did the baby corn say to its mother?