I come in different shapes and sizes.
Parts of me are curved, other parts are straight.
You can put me anywhere you like,
but there is only one right place for me.
What am I?

A father's child, a mother's child, yet no one's son.

Who am I?

What is full of holes but still holds water?

What is in seasons, seconds, centuries and minutes but not in decades, years or days?

Until it is measured, not known. Yet how you miss it when it has gone. What is it?

When it is alive we sing, when it is dead we clap our hands. What is it?

It's pretty hard to give up.
If you remove a part of it, you will be left with a bit.
Even if you remove another part, the bit still remains.
Remove one more and it still remains.

What is it?

I make a loud sound when I’m changing. When I do change, I get bigger but weigh less. What am I?

I am a five-letter word and people eat me. If you remove the first letter I become an energy form. If you remove the first two letters, I am needed to live. Scramble the last three letters and I am a drink. What word am I?

I am the largest in my family of fifty.
The youngest of our family lives separately from the rest of the family and so do I.
I am regarded as harsh and tough.
I am so large, you cut me in two equal halves,
each half would still be larger than the second largest member of the family.
Who am I?