Past riddles

Fine as dust, I slip through hands; I paint faces and can start explosions—what am I?

I'm someone on your level, and also what you do when you pry.

Born when choices close a door, I haunt with 'if' and never restore. What am I?

I can prop a man, conduct a march, start a fire and snap in two. What am I?

Shaped by hands or learned by heart, I can be a vessel or someone's art—what am I?

I shrink to become sweeter, and my name is the cut that makes things grow.

I measure without a ruler, keep score without a game; titled yet often numbered, feared at...

I live in whispers, lighter when told but heavier when kept. What am I?

I wear patched clothes but wear no shoes, I guard the rows yet never move.

I can be a quick kiss or a bird's tiny bite. What am I?