The Riddler is Back

I'm often seen around a lot, referred to many ways,
See me black and you may find misfortune haunts your days.
Tell a thing, that should have been kept quiet, to all around,
Then look inside the sack, there I'm no longer to be found.
Nosiness, prying, snooping, leaves me fearing, full of dread,
For all these things are likely to see me soon lying dead.
These clues combined should start to give a picture, an idea,
Of who or what I am, so can you tell me? Is it clear?

Sure 'n Begorrah, it's a Riddle

I am a food upon your plate,
When you partake of me in dawning light.
Yet I become a drink inside your glass,
After dinner-time at night.

Do You Feel Like Riddling?

The sun bakes them,
the hand breaks them,
the foot treads on them,
and the mouth tastes them.

What are they?

Here's a Riddle, Just for YOU

Always old, sometimes new.
Never sad, sometimes blue.
Never empty, sometimes full.
Never pushing, always pulling.

What am I?