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The more you take away from me, the bigger I become. What am I?
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I have a mouth but never eat. I drink sunlight all day, then give you a view at night. What am I?
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I travel across the table, but I never take a step. I leave a trail behind me, yet I grow smaller as I go. What am I?
I take a bite from every bar, yet I never chew. I grow smaller as I work, leaving smooth shapes behind. What am I?
I follow you wherever you go, but I never make a sound. The more of me you leave behind, the less clearly you can see. What am I?
I follow you closely but never make a sound. I shrink at noon and stretch at sunset. What am I?
I borrow a shape from every room, yet I own no shape at all. I grow when the lights go low, but vanish when they go out. What am I?
What appears once in a minute, twice in a moment, but never in a thousand years?
I travel farther when I am broken, yet I never take a single step. What am I?
What word becomes shorter when you add two letters to it?
I enter every room without a door, I leave without taking a step. I can fill a hall, yet have no shape, and one small crack can make me vanish. What am I?
I arrive without feet, gather without hands, and leave without moving. The more of me there is, the less you can see. What am I?
I am a road with no dust, a corridor with no doors, and a journey that takes no time. I can carry a face across a room, yet I never move it. Break me, and I become more of myself. What am I?
I have sleeves but no hands, a collar but no face. I wrap around you, yet I never embrace. What am I?
A man shaves several times every day, yet still has a beard. Who is he?
I have no throat, yet I can speak; no ears, yet I can listen. I keep every word you give me, but return it only when you ask in the right way. What am I?
I ride in a pocket, yet I never walk. I open a door without using a hand. What am I?
This cozy bakery looks perfectly normal… but one detail doesn’t make sense. Can you spot what’s wrong?
I guard a castle, but I never sleep. What am I?
I hug your papers without tape or glue. I bend my two arms back to let go. What am I?
I have many layers, but I’m not a book. Cut me and I may make you cry. What am I?
