160 Long Riddles With Answers
Long riddles tell a story before they ask a question, and the answer usually depends on a detail buried in the middle of it. They reward the kind of reader who notices that the third sentence contained an odd, specific number.
These take longer than a one-liner and are the better choice when you want a group to actually work on something together - a classroom exercise, a long journey, a team session. Several are classic logic puzzles that are best attacked with a pen.
Every riddle here has its answer and a written explanation, because with a long riddle the reasoning is most of the point.
Four golfers named Mr. Black, Mr. White, Mr. Brown and Mr. Blue were competing in a tournament. The caddy didn't know their names, so he asked them. One of them, Mr. Brown, told a lie. The 1st golfer said "The 2nd Golfer is Mr. Black." The 2nd golfer said "I am not Mr. Blue!" The 3rd golfer said "Mr. White? That's the 4th golfer." And the 4th golfer remained silent. Which one of the golfers is Mr. Blue?
Testing each golfer as the possible liar (only Mr. Brown lies) against all three statements is only consistent when the 3rd golfer is revealed to be Mr. Blue.
A prisoner is told: "If you tell a lie, we will hang you and if you tell the truth, we will shoot you". What did the prisoner say to save himself?
Claiming 'You will hang me' creates an unresolvable paradox: hanging him would make the statement true (so he told the truth and should have been shot instead), while shooting him would make it a lie (so he should have been hanged instead) - so the captors can carry out neither punishment.
A man lives on the top floor of a hotel. When he is out with a friend or out on a rainy day, he comes back, goes to the elevator, and goes to the top floor. When he goes out alone or on a sunny day, he goes half way up and walks the rest of the way up. Why?
The man is too short to reach the elevator's top-floor button alone, so he can only ride all the way up when a friend reaches it for him or he uses his umbrella to press it on a rainy day.
When you stop and look, you can always see me. If you try to touch, you cannot feel me. I cannot move, but as you near me, I will move away from you.
The horizon is always visible in the distance, but since it's just where earth and sky appear to meet, it constantly recedes as you approach it.
Grows from the ground, bushes and grass, leaves of yellow, red and brow, unruly plants, get the axe, trim the hedge back down.
Hair 'grows from the ground' of your scalp in every color, and like an unruly hedge, it eventually needs a trim to keep it tidy.
I am enjoyed by some, despised by others. Some take me for granted, some treasure me like a gift. I last forever, unless you break me first. What am I?
Marriage is meant to be a lifelong bond that lasts "forever" unless broken, such as through divorce, and people's feelings about it vary widely.
I've got a beautiful, beautiful hall all walled in red velvet, with all white armchairs made of bone, and in the middle a woman dances.
The "red velvet hall" is the inside of the mouth, the "white armchairs of bone" are the teeth, and the "dancing woman" is the tongue moving as you speak.
I spend most of my day eating white. When I am quick enough, I get rewarded with fruit and somethings blue. In a dark room with blue walls, I run from the ghost that roam the halls. What am I?
In the classic arcade game, Pac-Man gobbles white dots through a dark maze, earns bonus fruit, and must flee the ghosts patrolling the halls - unless a power pellet has turned them blue.
I beam, I shine, I sparkle white. I'll brighten the day with a single light. I'll charm and enchant all. I'll bring the best in you all. What am I?
A bright, white smile lights up a room, charms everyone who sees it, and often brings out the very best in the person wearing it.
Die without me, never thank me. Walk right through me, never feel me. Always watching, never speaking. Always lurking, never seen.
Like riddle 214, air is invisible and untouched as you walk through it, yet utterly necessary - you'd die without it though you rarely think to thank it.
Two in a whole and four in a pair. Six in a trio you see. Eight's a quartet but what you must get is the name that fits just one of me. What am I?
This wordplay riddle counts by twos - a whole holds two halves, a pair holds four, a trio six, a quartet eight - always doubling the count, with 'half' being the name that fits just one single unit.
It is destruction made out of thin air, You hear it howl and give a prayer, Through barns and houses it will tear. It is a deadly funnel, Of violent and twisting air.
The poem's imagery of a howling, tearing, twisting funnel of air actually fits a tornado slightly better than a hurricane, but the source names it a hurricane -- the answer is a loose fit for its own clues.
The floor's on top, the roof's beneath, and from this place I rarely leave. Yet with the passing of each day. A new horizon greets my gaze.
Aboard ship a sailor's world is turned around - the deck above serves as his 'roof,' the hull below as his 'floor' - and every day at sea brings a fresh horizon into view.
I run around the streets all day. Under the bed or by the door I sit at night, never alone. My tongue hangs out, waiting to be fed during the day. What am I?
Like riddle 131, a shoe 'runs' the streets all day and rests, tongue out, under the bed or by the door each night, waiting to be worn again.
You get embarrassed when you stand on me when everybody is watching. Women don't like to talk about the number they see on me. Everyone stands on me when nobody is around. What am I?
Nobody wants to be seen stepping on a bathroom scale, and most people avoid discussing the number it shows - yet almost everyone quietly weighs themselves when alone.
I can be winding and I can be straight. I can be smooth and I can be rough. Sometimes both. I start out black but fade to brown the more I am used. My favorite colors are yellow and white, and I love stripes and dashed lines. What am I?
A road can curve or run straight, be smooth or rough pavement that darkens with wear, and features yellow and white painted lane markings, including stripes and dashed lines.
The strongest chains will not bind it. Ditch and rampart will not slow it down. A thousand soldiers cannot beat it, it can knock down trees with a single bush.
No chain, trench, or army can stop the wind, and a strong enough gust can topple trees that a thousand soldiers together could never budge.
They're big and yet so far away, We see them at the end of day. They're small and they're above. We see them when we close our eyes, Each time we are in love.
Stars are enormous yet appear tiny and distant at dusk, and 'seeing stars' also describes the sparkle behind closed eyes - whether from a bump on the head or the dizzying feeling of being in love.
I heard of a wonder, of words moth-eaten. That is a strange thing, I thought, weird. That a man's song be swallowed by a worm. His blinded sentences, his bedside stand-by rustled in the night - and the robber-guest. Not one wit the wiser. For the words he had mumbled.
This Old English riddle (the 'Moth' riddle from the Exeter Book) describes a bookworm that literally eats through a manuscript's words while its meaning goes unnoticed.
I march before armies, a thousand salute me. My fall can bring victory, but no one would shoot me. The wind is my lover, one-legged am I. Name me and see me at home in the sky.
A flag leads troops into battle and is saluted by soldiers, flutters for the wind alone, stands on a single pole, and belongs at home flying high in the sky.
I have two arms, but fingers none. I have two feet, but cannot run. I carry well, but I have found I carry best with my feet off the ground. What am I?
A wheelbarrow has two handle 'arms' with no fingers and a wheel or 'feet' that carries loads best when tilted, wheel side down, off the ground.
I have been the beginning of ideas for all time, yet I am just one simple small object, the things that you can use me for can be frustrating and also I can be pretty. I have some of the most valuable thing in the world on me, yet almost everyone owns me. With me you can make anything. What am I?
Ideas are first sketched on paper, it can frustrate you with cuts or jams yet also be beautifully decorated, and it even carries the world's most valuable commodity - printed money.
*Forward* *backwards* is what I do all day. I come in all different shapes and sizes. I can be scary, and I can calm you down. What am I?
A rocking chair sways forward and backward all day long, its gentle rock able to calm a fussy baby - or, in an empty room, look eerily unsettling.
Halfway up the hill, I see you at last, lying beneath me with your sounds and sights. A city in the twilight, dim and vast, with smoking roofs, soft bells, and gleaming lights.
This poem describes gazing down at a twilight city from a hillside as if it were a memory - a metaphor for looking back on the past.
I am taken from a mine, and shut up in a wooden case, from which I am never released, and yet I am used by almost everybody.
Pencil lead (graphite) is mined from the earth and sealed permanently inside a wooden casing, yet nearly everyone uses it to write.
When I am visible to you, you cannot see me, but when I am invisible, you long to see me. I am plenty with someone patient, but all the more scarce with a hasty one. I am greater than all, but still in the control of those who value my existence. Who am I?
When time is passing normally you don't notice it, but once it feels like it's running out you wish you could see more of it; patient people feel they have plenty, while impatient people feel it's always scarce.
It speaks to you, yet it can't speak. When you hold it you can travel, in your mind's eye worlds unravel. And everything in it's a lie. And with every new untruth, still you feel it speaks the truth.
A book communicates without a voice, transports readers to imagined worlds through the mind's eye, and even though its story is fiction, a good one feels entirely true while you're immersed in it.
It's round but also like a chess-board. It can and is both whirled and curled, And bent and shot and parried. Some play it on a field or watch it on the couch, And anyone can play it, even Peter Crouch.
A soccer ball's black-and-white paneled pattern resembles a chessboard, and it can be whirled, curled, bent, shot, and parried by any player - even towering pros like Peter Crouch.
We are few to the wise; We are abundant to the drunken; We can calm the beast and are precious to the child; We can devour the heart, without piercing the skin.
Words can be sparse in a wise person's careful speech, plentiful in a drunk's rambling, soothing to a wild beast or child, and can 'devour the heart' emotionally without any physical wound.
When people come for me to meet, they come to me with heavy feet. The one I hold, when I get my chance, will turn and spin, and start to dance.
People approach the gallows with dread ("heavy feet"), and the condemned person it "holds" is hanged, causing the body to swing and twitch ("turn and spin, and start to dance").
I can wave my hands at you, but I never say goodbye. You are always cool when with me, even more so when I am high! What am I?
An electric fan's blades wave like hands without ever waving goodbye, keeping you cool - especially when switched to its highest speed setting.
I am used for light yet I am solid. Without me you would feel enclosed. I hate being touched, especially with a lot of force. I like to be in buildings. What am I?
A window lets in light while remaining a solid pane, keeps a room from feeling closed-in, shatters if struck too hard, and is a fixture of nearly every building.
My first a blessing sent to earth, of plants and flowers to aid the birth; my second surely was designed to hurl destruction on mankind; my whole a pledge from pardoning heaven, of wrath appeased and crimes forgiven.
'Rain' nurtures plants and flowers, 'bow' (as in bow and arrow) is a weapon of destruction, and together 'rainbow' is the biblical sign of God's promise never to flood the earth again.
It passes but you never hear it. Sometimes though, you think you feel it. You think you had it but it's gone. You want to stop it, but it moves on. You lose it, gain it, maybe fear it, but it goes on, forever on.
Time passes silently and can't truly be grasped, yet everyone senses it slipping away, wishes to slow it down, and it marches on forever regardless.
You will find me with four legs, but no hair. People ride me for hours, but I don't go anywhere without needing to be tugged. Jerked or turned on, I always manage to be ready for work.
A desk stands on four bare legs, is 'ridden' for hours while you sit and work at it, and its drawers are tugged open and its lamp switched on, always ready for the next task.
The cost of making only the maker knows, valueless if bought, but sometimes traded. A poor man may give one as easily as king. When one is broken pain and deceit are assured.
A promise costs nothing to make but everything to keep, is worthless if purchased, can be given by rich or poor alike, and breaking one always brings pain and betrayal.
My first is in riddle, but not in little. My second is in think, but not in brink. My third is in thyme, but not in time. My fourth is in mother, but not in brother. My last is in time, but not in climb.
Each clue hides one letter of RHYME - R from riddle, H from think, Y from thyme, M from mother, and E from time - spelling out the poetic device this very riddle relies on.
My head and tail both equal are, my middle slender as a bee. Whether I stand on head or heel Is quite the same to you or me. But if my head should be cut off, the matter's true, though passing strange directly I to nothing change.
The numeral 8 has two equal round loops joined by a slim waist, looks the same right-side up or upside-down, and if you slice off its top loop, what remains is simply a 0.
I am the tool, for inspiring many. Buy me in the store, for not much more than a penny. Don't overuse me, or my usefulness will go.
A cheap ballpoint pen can inspire great writing and costs barely more than a penny, but will eventually run dry with overuse.
I shift around, though always slowly. I never move more than a few inches at a time. A large movement by me can kill many people. I am huge, yet unseen by humans. What am I?
Tectonic plates drift only inches per year, yet a sudden major shift can trigger a devastating, deadly earthquake - enormous forces moving unseen beneath our feet.
I am not alive and yet I grow. Just put me next to where it grows. A favorite of the summertime, best with friends when combined. What am I?
A marshmallow puffs up ('grows') when held near a campfire, a beloved summer treat best enjoyed with friends - especially combined into a s'more.
Sometimes I fly as fast as the speed of light. Sometime I crawl as slow as a snail. Unknown until I am measured but you will certainly miss me when I'm gone. What am I?
Time can seem to fly by in an instant or crawl painfully slowly, is invisible until measured by a clock, and is always missed most once it has run out.
The wave, over the wave, a weird thing I saw, Through-wrought, and wonderfully ornate: A wonder on the wave-water became bone.
This old riddle describes frozen water - waves turned to hard, intricately patterned ice that looks almost carved like bone.
It can be repeated but rarely in the same way. It can't be changed but can be rewritten. It can be passed down, but should not be forgotten.
History repeats itself yet never quite the same way twice, can't be undone though its telling can be rewritten, and is passed down through generations - forgotten only at our peril.
Used left or right, I get to travel over cobblestone or gravel. Used up, I vie for sweet success, used down, I cause men great duress.
Hitchhikers stick out a thumb, left or right, to catch a ride over any road, and a thumbs-up signals success while a thumbs-down spells trouble.
When the day after tomorrow is yesterday, today will be as far from Wednesday as today was from Wednesday when the day before yesterday was tomorrow. What is the day after this day?
Working through each relative day-shift in the riddle - the day after tomorrow, the day before yesterday - and solving for consistency with Wednesday pins the day in question down to Thursday.
I can be moved. I can be rolled. But nothing will I hold. I'm red and I'm blue, and I can be other colors too. Having no head, though similar in shape. I have no eyes - yet move all over the place.
A ball rolls and moves in every color without holding anything inside, has no head or eyes despite its round shape, yet can end up anywhere it's kicked or thrown.
I'm in a box, full of that which is most rare. But I'm not a flute, and I'm not some hair. Though soft be my bed, I'm as hard as a rock. While dull in the dark, I glisten once unlocked.
A precious jewel rests on a soft velvet lining inside its box, hard as stone and dull until the box is opened and it catches the light.
I do not breathe, but I run and jump. I do not eat, but I swim and stretch. I do not drink, but I sleep and stand. I do not think, but I grow and play. I do not see, but you see me everyday.
Though lifeless without breath, thought, or appetite of its own, your leg runs, jumps, swims, stretches, and grows right along with you, visible every single day.
Some women don't like to be called that, yet every woman wants one. It cries and makes a lot of noise, but smiles and gurgles when you give it toys.
No grown woman likes being called a 'baby,' yet most dream of having one - a bundle that cries loudly one moment and gurgles happily with a toy the next.
Never was, I am always to be. No one ever saw me, nor ever will. And yet I am the confidence of all, to live and breath on this terrestrial ball. What am I?
Almost word-for-word the same riddle as another in this collection, this version's answer is 'the future' - something no one has ever truly seen, yet everyone lives their life trusting it will come.
Those wooden birds are now in sight whose voices roar, whose wings are white, whose maws are fill'd with hose and shoes, with wine, cloth, sugar, salt and news, when they have eas'd their stomachs here they cry farewell, until next year.
This old riddle describes wooden sailing ships with roaring cannons, white sails ('wings'), and cargo holds ('maws') full of goods that unload at port before sailing off again.
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?
A violin has a slender, curved 'waist,' a gentle tone, and needs its bow drawn across the strings or it produces no sound at all.
A beggar's brother went out to sea and drowned. But the man who drowned had no brother. Who was the beggar to the man who drowned?
Since the drowned man had no brother, the beggar who called him 'brother' must actually be female -- his sister.
I am the heart that does not beat. If cut, I bleed without blood. I can fly, but have no wings. I can float, but have no fins. I can sing, but have no mouth.
Wood has a grain sometimes called its 'heart,' oozes sap ('bleeds') when cut, and shaped into arrows, boats, or instruments, it can fly, float, or sing without wings, fins, or a mouth of its own.
Creatures of power, creatures of grade, creatures of beauty, creatures of strength. As for their lives, they set everything's pace. For all things must come to live. Under their emerald embrace. Either in their life or in their death.
Trees of every size and strength shelter all living things beneath their green canopy in life, and their wood often accompanies us even in death, as with a coffin.
I can trap many different things and colors, ever changing, not boring. Look closely and you may find yourself also caught in my trap.
A mirror captures every color and shape reflected before it, endlessly changing, and if you look closely you'll always find your own reflection caught within it.
I have an end but no beginning, a home but no family, a space without room. I never speak but there is no word I cannot make. What am I?
A computer keyboard has literal 'End' and 'Home' keys, a 'Space' bar that holds no room, and though silent itself, it can type out any word imaginable.
I am one small little piece of paper, yet sometimes hold lots of value. I am all you need to get in to big events, but will cost you. I am an important part of travel. And if lost, you're not coming. What am I?
A small paper ticket can be worth a lot, is your admission to big events or trips, and losing it means you won't be getting in.
My first brace Nelson yielded, midst the jar of angry battle, and the din of war; my second, when from labor we retreat, far from polite, yet offers us a seat; my whole is but my second more complete.
ARM (which Admiral Nelson famously lost in battle) plus CHAIR (where we rest after labor) combine into ARMCHAIR - a chair made 'more complete' with armrests.
I roam through the lands hoping to rescue my love. I search high and low, and will stomp on you if you get in my way. What am I?
In the Mario video game series, the hero treks across many lands to rescue Princess Peach, defeating enemies along the way by stomping on them.
We are little brethren twain, arbiters of loss and gain; man to our counters run, some are made, and some undone; but men find it, to their cost, few are made, but numbers lost; though we play them tricks for ever, yet they always hope our favor.
A pair of dice decides fortunes at the gaming table - luck rarely favors the gambler, yet players keep hoping the dice will turn in their favor.
As a whole, I am both safe and secure. Behead me, I become a place of meeting. Behead me again, I am the partner of ready. Restore me, I become the domain of beasts.
STABLE beheaded becomes TABLE (a meeting place), beheaded again becomes ABLE (paired with 'ready'), and restoring the S returns to STABLE - literally a barn, the domain of beasts.
I am in the sky but also in the ground. When you study me, no matter how long, I will always end with an f. I may be in your yard but not in your house. What am I?
Leaves fall from the sky and end up on the ground, the word 'leaf' always ends in 'f,' and leaves are found outdoors in the yard, not typically inside the house.
My first, if you do, you'll increase; my second will keep you from heaven; my whole, such a human caprice, is more frequently given than taken.
ADD (which increases a total) plus VICE (a sin that keeps you from heaven) combine into ADVICE - notoriously given far more often than it's actually taken.
My first is to be seen every day in the firmament; My second conquers kings and queens; And my whole is what I would offer to a friend in distress.
'Sol' is the sun seen daily in the sky, an 'ace' beats kings and queens in cards, and together they form 'solace' -- comfort offered to a struggling friend.
I am the beginning of sorrow, and the end of sickness. You cannot express happiness without me, yet I am in the midst of crosses. I am always in risk, yet never in danger. You may find me in the sun, but I am never seen out of darkness.
The letter S starts 'sorrow' and ends 'sickness,' sits inside 'happiness' and 'crosses,' pairs with 'risk' but not 'danger,' and appears in 'sun' but never outside 'darkness.'
My first is a heir; My second's a snare; My whole is the offspring of fancy; Which I sent, out of play, Upon Valentine's day, As a token of love, to my Nancy.
An 'heir' is often a 'son,' and a 'snare' is a 'net' -- combine son plus net to get 'sonnet,' a poem born of imagination and a classic Valentine's gift.
I am easy to see, but no one likes looking at me. Without me, there would be no you. I can make you complain, or make you happy. But you almost always take me for granted. What am I?
Everyone can see the sun, yet staring at it is uncomfortable; without it there'd be no life on Earth, and its presence affects everyone's mood, though it's easy to take for granted.
If you look you cannot see me. If you see me you cannot see anything else. I can make anything you want happen, but later everything goes back to normal.
Imagination itself is invisible, yet when you're absorbed in it you notice nothing else around you, conjuring anything you wish before reality resumes.
Before my birth I have a name, but soon as born I lose the same; and when I'm laid within the tomb, I do my father's name assume; I change my name three days together, yet live but on in any weather.
Before it arrives it's called 'tomorrow,' the moment it happens it becomes 'today,' and once past it takes on its father's name, 'yesterday' -- living on regardless of the weather.
I cost no money to use, or conscious effort to take part of. And as far as you can see, there is nothing to me. But without me, you are dead.
Air is free, invisible, and requires no real effort to take in with each breath, yet life is utterly impossible without it.
I come off a beautiful creature, which soars in the sky. I come off a peckish creature, which has a tail as mighty as the sun! I am sometimes dirty, and parents beg you not to pick me up. What am I?
A feather comes from birds like eagles (soaring) and roosters (whose tail feathers can be showy), and parents often discourage kids from touching a dirty one found outside.
I am as simple as a circle, worthless as a leader; but when I follow a group, their strength increases tenfold. By myself I'm practically nothing. What am I?
Zero looks like a plain circle, means nothing on its own or when leading a number, yet placed after other digits it multiplies their value tenfold with each one added.
I am essential to life on earth! I am split into thirds. Two thirds are the same. One of the thirds is 8. The other two are 1 each. What am I?
Water (H2O) is made of two hydrogen atoms (each atomic number 1) and one oxygen atom (atomic number 8) — 'two thirds the same' and 'one of the thirds is 8.'
There's not a kingdom on the earth, but I have traveled over and over, and though I know not whence my birth, yet when I come, you know my roar. I through the town do take my flight, and through the fields and meadows green, and whether it be day or night, I neither am nor can be seen.
The wind has traveled everywhere without a birthplace of its own, roars audibly through town and field, yet remains completely invisible day or night.
Within passion's fruit they will be found, and more of them in the pomegranate's crown. Rowed they are within an apple's core, yet other fruits have them more. And though the nectarine has but one, still, this is all just in fun. Playing hide and seek- a children's game. Finding out each player is just the same.
Passion fruit, pomegranates, apples, and nectarines all contain seeds in varying numbers, and the poem plays on "seeds" sounding just like "seeks" in hide-and-seek.
Words come out of it, aligned in perfect silence. A messenger of black on white, a slinky fellow drawing lines, of thin and soft graphite.
A pencil silently produces words on paper, its slender graphite core leaving soft, dark lines like a quiet messenger of black on white.
Is said to make the world go around, but only if we let it. It puts a value on a thing, and makes you do some crazy things, just so you can get it.
Money is often blamed for making the world go round, assigns value to everything, and drives people to do things they normally wouldn't, all in pursuit of getting more of it.
I am merry creature in pleasant time of year, As in but certain seasons, I sing that you can hear; And yet I'm made a by-word, A very perfect mock; Compared to foolish persons, And silliest of all folk.
The cuckoo bird sings cheerfully only in certain seasons, yet its name became slang for someone foolish or a little crazy - a 'cuckoo' insult born from the bird itself.
Five hundred begins it, five hundred ends it. Five in the middle is seen. First of all figures, the first of all letters. Take up their stations between. Join all together, and then you will bring before you the name of an eminent king.
D (500 in Roman numerals) starts and ends the name, V (5) sits in the middle, and A (first letter of the alphabet) and I (the first Roman numeral) fill the remaining spots, spelling DAVID, the biblical king.
I am in the past, never in the future. I don't exist, but have existed. I saw what you saw, and this is what I will ever see. What am I?
A memory exists only in the past, can never be renewed by the future, and forever replays exactly what was once seen, unchanged.
Mouthless but I will tell you a name that is not mine, I will show you the years I have seen but I have no eyes, memory I have but I have no mind.
A gravestone bears someone else's name, marks the years of a lifespan without having eyes to have seen them, and serves as a silent 'memory' with no mind of its own.
Six letters do my name compound; Among the aged oft I'm found; The shepherd also, by the brook, Hears me when leaning on his crook; But in the middle me divide, And take the half on either side, Each backward read, a liquor tell, Ev'ry gay toper knows it well.
Split 'murmur' down the middle into 'mur' and 'mur,' and each half read backward spells 'rum' - the liquor every heavy drinker ('toper') knows well.
Oh lord! I am not worthy! I bend my limbs to the ground. I cry, yet without a sound. Let me drink of waters deep. And in silence I will weep.
The weeping willow bends its long branches toward the ground near water, its drooping form evoking a silent, sorrowful weeping.
Kings and queens may cling to power, and the jesters may have their call. I am the most common but I can rule them all. What am I?
In many card games the Ace outranks even the King and Queen, and though it's the lowest-numbered card, it can trump every other card in the deck.
I am never quite what I appear to be. Straight-forward I seem, but it's only skin deep. For mystery most often lies beneath my simple speech. Sharpen your wits, open your eyes, look beyond my exteriors, read me backwards, forwards, upside down. Think and answer the question...What am I?
A riddle looks simple on the surface but hides a deeper meaning, rewarding those who examine it from every angle - fittingly, this very riddle describes itself.
I have no voice but I can teach you all there is to know. I have spines and hinges but I am not a door. Once I've told you all, I cannot tell you more. What am I?
A book is silent yet teaches everything within it, has a 'spine' and hinge-like binding without being a door, and once you've read it all, it has nothing more to tell.
First I may be your servant's name; then your desires I may proclaim; And, when your mortal life is over, hold all your wealth within my power.
'Will' can be a given name (short for William), a verb expressing desire or intention, and the legal document that controls how your wealth is distributed after death.
You get many of me, but never enough. After the last one, your life soon will snuff. You may have one of me but one day a year, When the last one is gone, your life disappears.
You accumulate birthdays year after year, always wanting more, and once your very last birthday has come and gone, your life is over.
It is more feared than fear itself, And no one can escape it. It takes no sides and does not judge, it does not know to hold a grudge. It is the most clearest result, Of how life beats you by default.
Death is universal, unavoidable, and impartial, everyone eventually experiences it regardless of who they are, making it the inevitable end result of life.
I am the outstretched fingers that seize and hold the wind. Wisdom flows from me in other hands. Upon me are sweet dreams dreamt, my merest touch brings laughter.
A feather's barbs catch the wind like fingers, quill pens (made from feathers) once wrote down wisdom, feather pillows cradle sleepers' dreams, and a feather's light touch famously tickles and causes laughter.
It's true I bring serenity. And hang around the stars. But yet I live in misery, you'll find me behind bars. With thieves and villains I consort. In prison I'll be found. But I would never go to court. Unless there's more than one.
Adding the letter S turns 'star' into 'stars,' 'bar' into 'bars,' and 'court' into 'courts' - it only shows up when there's more than one of something, fitting every clue in the riddle.
To give me to someone I don't belong to is cowardly, but to take me is noble. I can be a game, but there are no winners. What am I?
Blaming someone else for your own fault is cowardly, but voluntarily taking the blame yourself is considered noble; in a 'blame game,' there's never a true winner.
A thousand colored folds stretch toward the sky. Atop a tender strand, rising from the land, until killed by maiden's hand. Perhaps a token of love, perhaps to say goodbye.
A flower's many colorful folded petals rise on a slender stem until picked by a maiden's hand - given as a token of love or laid down in farewell.
Comes in bits and pieces, put together forms a whole. It's athletics for the mind, the more you think the more you find. Sometimes it can be a grind, but then, that is the goal.
A puzzle is made of separate pieces that only reveal the full picture once combined, making it a genuine workout for the mind.
My first is ocean but not in sea, My second in milk but not in me. My third is in three but not in throw, My fourth in vow but not in crow. My fifth is in eight but not in night, My last is in wrong and also right. My whole is praise for thoughts or men; Or women, too, or tongue or pen.
Each line hides one letter of CLEVER - C from ocean, L from milk, E from three, V from vow, E from eight, R from wrong - spelling out a word of praise for sharp thinking.
I am a window, I am a lamp, I am clouded, I am shining, I am colored and set in white, I fill with water and overflow. I say much, but I have no words.
An eye has a colored iris set in white, can well up and overflow with tears, and though it says nothing aloud, its expressions can speak volumes.
A young man wants to have it, but when he has it he no longer wants it. Blade in hand he attacks it And does his best to remove it. Yet he knows that it is all in vain.
A young man looks forward to growing his first beard, then shaves it off once he has it, knowing all along that it will simply grow right back.
It comes only before, it comes only after. Rises only in darkness, but rises only in light. It is always the same, but is yet always different.
The moon precedes and follows the sun in the sky, is most visible rising at night yet shines with reflected daylight, and though it is the same moon each month, its phase is always changing.
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