I hang from the ceiling People often forget which one goes on the ground I'm often formed in caves What am I?

I am born of pressure, yet feel no pain. My facets gleam, a king's domain. Though priceless I am, I have no voice to explain.

Joints and bearings, Crystal and how it’s viewed. In the fields it is hit, kicked, thrown and abused. A hitch to extend. Rolls on what’s askew. No hogs are admired. The red rubber’s the true.

I have a hook, but catch no fish. I have a loop, but tie no knot. We stick together, though we are not kin.

A Naval friend once told me that ships float, and ... sink, which I thought submarines were ships, but not to him.