Answer:
I turn around once. What is out will not get in. I turn around again. What is in will not get out.
I am believed to be only one dimensional, and tinier than anything can be, and there are many who say that I am the basis of all that we see. What am I?
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
A red drum which sounds without being touched, and grows silent, when it is touched.
Halo of water, tongue of wood. Skin of stone, long I've stood. My fingers short reach to the sky. Inside my heart men live and die.
Why was the cook arrested?