Answer:
Tear off my skin. I won't cry, but you will. What am I?
What is so delicate that saying its name breaks it?
You can see it everyday, but cannot touch it at will. What is it?
I have numbers on my face but can't find 13 any place. What am I?
I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?