Thirty Third Riddle

My tale is a dry whisper, yet I sound loudly in secret places. I can stir up a revolution or help an old lady pass the time. I have leaves but am not a tree. I may be sold, borrowed, or burned. Neither parchment nor paper, spine nor case, mark nor worm are strangers to my kind. I can lie in wait a thousand years and yet speak powerfully though I have no tongue. What am I?

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