Lined with walls of privacy, Or, perhaps, proudly displayed. Gentle, tender, care for me, I'll give you things, Which you'll then claim to have made

Can have many colors! Seen at parties and loved by kids. Can be silent, can be very loud too!

I’m a hard, hooked tool of metal and might, used to lift what’s stuck or force what’s tight. I slip into cracks where doors won’t budge, and with one strong pull, I make things nudge. What am I?

I have a point but no particular view, I have lead but I cannot walk, I can draw and sketch for you. What am I?

I am a shallow traveler who sails in circles, never crossing the surface I explore. I carry currents of heat and flavor, yet I am rarely tasted myself. I can be silver at a feast or plastic at a roadside stop, equally trusted with a child’s first meal and a patient’s last. What am I?