What gets wetter and wetter the more it dries?
You throw away the outside and cook the inside. Then you eat the outside and throw away the inside. What did you eat?
What goes up and down the stairs without moving?
What can you catch but not throw?
I can run but not walk. Wherever I go, thought follows close behind. What am I?
What’s black and white and red all over?
What goes around the world but stays in a corner?
I have holes in my top and bottom, my left and right, and in the middle. But I still hold water. What am I?
Give me food, and I will live; give me water, and I will die. What am I?
The man who invented it doesn’t want it. The man who bought it doesn’t need it. The man who needs it doesn’t know it. What is it?
I run over fields and woods all day. Under the bed at night I sit not alone. My tongue hangs out, up and to the rear, awaiting to be filled in the morning. What am I?
Throw it off the highest building, and I’ll not break. But put me in the ocean, and I will. What am I?
What can run but never walks, has a mouth but never talks, has a head but never weeps, has a bed but never sleeps?
No sooner spoken than broken. What is it?
A certain crime is punishable if attempted but not punishable if committed. What is it?
You use a knife to slice my head and weep beside me when I am dead. What am I?
I’m the part of the bird that’s not in the sky. I can swim in the ocean and yet remain dry. What am I?
I am mother and father, but never birth or nurse. I’m rarely still, but I never wander. What am I?
I went into the woods and got it. I sat down to seek it. I brought it home with me because I couldn’t find it. What is it?
I am weightless, but you can see me. Put me in a bucket, and I’ll make it lighter. What am I?
I never was, am always to be,
No one ever saw me, nor ever will,
And yet I am the confidence of all
To live and breathe on this terrestrial ball.
What am I?
I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest man can’t hold me for much more than a minute. What am I?
I am the black child of a white father, a wingless bird, flying even to the clouds of heaven. I give birth to tears of mourning in pupils that meet me, even though there is no cause for grief, and at once on my birth I am dissolved into air. What am I?
Pronounced as one letter,
And written with three,
Two letters there are,
And two only in me.
I’m double, I’m single,
I’m black, blue, and gray,
I’m read from both ends,
And the same either way.
What am I?
At night they come without being fetched, and by day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?
I’m where yesterday follows today, and tomorrow’s in the middle. What am I?
From the beginning of eternity
To the end of time and space
To the beginning of every end
And the end of every place.
What am I?
In a marble hall white as milk
Lined with skin as soft as silk
Within a fountain crystal-clear
A golden apple doth appear.
No doors there are to this stronghold,
Yet thieves break in to steal its gold.
It is said among my people that some things are improved by death. Tell me, what stinks while living but in death smells good?
All about, but cannot be seen,
Can be captured, cannot be held,
No throat, but can be heard.
What is it?
If you break me,
I do not stop working.
If you touch me,
I may be snared.
If you lose me,
Nothing will matter.
What am I?
If a man carried my burden,
He would break his back.
I am not rich,
But I leave silver in my track.
What am I?
Glittering points that downward thrust,
Sparkling spears that never rust.
What is it?
Weight in my belly,
Trees on my back,
Nails in my ribs,
Feet do I lack.
What am I?
Until I am measured,
I am not known.
Yet how you miss me,
When I have flown!
What am I?
alvindavis99 
