Answer:
They have not flesh, nor feathers, nor scales, nor bone. Yet they have fingers and thumbs of their own. What are they?
Scythe of darkness, Shadow’s light. Guiding eye of thirteenth sight.
What is often returned but is never borrowed?
Bury deep, Pile on stones, My mind will always Dig up them bones
My life can be measured in hours. I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.
What did the piece of wood say when he saw the screwdriver and screws approaching?