My life is often a volume of grief, your help is needed to turn a new leaf. Stiff is my spine and my body is pale. But I'm always ready to tell a tale. What am I?

Answer: book

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My might alone cannot be weighed My voice is where they gave my fame Cloaked in gray, I cannot be tamed Do not fret, for I do not stay What am I?
My mother is water and my brother the sky. I am grey when wet but white when dry. What am I?
My rings are not worth much, but they do tell my age. What am I?
My skin is white but I have no nationality. My heart is often broken yet I have no feelings. What am I?
My teeth help me suck. What am I?
My thunder comes before my lightning. My lightning comes before my rain. And my rain dries all the ground it touches. What am I?
My tines are long. My tines are short. My tines end ere My first report. What am I?
My tines be long, my tines be short. My tines end ere, my first report. What am I?
My treasures are golden and guarded by thousands amongst a maze no man can enter. What am I?
My veins of green may go unseen, Til on the ground I lay around. What am I?
My voice is tender, my waist is slender and I'm often invited to play. Yet wherever I go I must take my bow or else I have nothing to say. What am I?
Never falling, often moving. Untouchable, but sometimes deadly. Another danger signalling, often seen but never staying. What am I?