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A Year of Riddles Answers
A Year of Riddles Answers January Levels:
With thieves I consort, With the Vilest, in short, I’m quite at ease in depravity, Yet all divines use me, And savants can’t lose me, For I am the century of gravity.
I move without wings, Between silken string, I leave as you find, My substance behind.
What flies forever, Rests never?
I appear in the morning. But am always there. You can never see me. Though I am everywhere. By night I am gone, though I sometimes never was. Nothing can defeat me. But I am easily gone.
I crawl on the earth. And rise on a pillar.
They are many and one, they wave and they drum, Used to cover a state, they go with you everywhere.
What must be in the oven yet can not be baked? Grows in the heat yet shuns the light of day? What sinks in water but rises with air? Looks like skin but is fine as hair?
I have holes on the top and bottom. I have holes on my left and on my right. And I have holes in the middle, Yet I still hold water.
What can be swallowed, But can also swallow you?
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.
I run around the city, but I never move.
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.
Two horses, swiftest traveling, harnessed in a pair, and grazing ever in places. Distant from them.
At the sound of me, men may dream. Or stamp their feet. At the sound of me, women may laugh. Or sometimes weep.
To unravel me you need a simple key, no key that was made by locksmith’s hand. But a key that only I will understand.
Long and think, red within, with a nail at the end.
I’m sometimes white and always wrong. I can break a heart and hurt the strong. I can build love or tear it down. I can make a smile or bring a frown.
You can tumble in it, roll in it, burn it, animal eat it. Used to cover floors, still used beyond stall doors. Freshens whatever it is placed on. Absorbs whatever is poured into it.
I come in winter. I cannot see, hear, or feel. I can’t eat, But you can eat parts of me.
Sometimes I am loud. And viewed with distaste. Poke out my “eye”, then I’m on the front of your face.
What is it that has four legs, one head, and a foot?
What makes a loud noise when changing its jacket. Becomes larger but weighs less?
I am always hungry, I must always be fed. The finger I lick will soon turn red.
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
No matter how little or how much you use me, you change me every month.
What can burn the eyes, sting the mouth, yet be consumed?
What an fill a room but takes up no space?
It occurs once in every minute. Twice in every moment and yet never in one hundred thousand years.
With pointed fangs it sits in wait. With piercing force it doles out fate, over bloodless victims proclaiming its might. Eternally joining in a single bite.
It holds most knowledge that has ever been said. But is not the brain, is not the head. To feathers and their masters, it’s both bane and boon One empty, and one full.
Upon me you can tread, though softly under cover. And I will take you places, that you have yet to discover. I’m high, and I’m low, though flat in the middle. And though a joy to the children, adults think of me little.
A Year of Riddles Answers February Levels:
A mile from end to end, yet as close to as a friend. A precious commodity, freely given. Seen on the dead and on the living. Found on the rich, poor, short and tall. But shared among children most of all.
I have a hundred legs, but cannot stand. I have a long neck, but no head. I cannot see. I’m neat and tidy as can be.
Flat as a leaf, round as a ring. Has two eyes, can’t see a thing.
I don’t think or eat or slumber. Or move around or fear thunder. Just like you I look the same but I can’t harm you or be your bane.
In marble halls as white as milk, lined with a skin as soft as silk. Within a fountain crystal-clear. A golden apple doth appear. No doors there are to this stronghold, yet thieves break in and steal the gold.
What is it that you must give before you can keep it.
I dig out tiny caves and store gold and silver in them. I also build bridges of silver and make crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. Sooner or later everybody needs my help. Yet many people are afraid to let me help them.
What is long and slim, works in light. Has but one eye, and an awful bite?
What lies in a tunnel of darkness. That can only attack when pulled back?
What has six faces and twenty-one eyes?
Until I am measured. I am not known, yet how you miss me when I have flown.
Three lives have I. Gentle enough to soothe the skin. Light enough to caress the sky. Hard enough to crack rocks.
I wear a red robe, with staff in hand, and a stone in my throat.
A warrior amongst the flowers, he bears a thrusting sword. He uses it whenever he must, to defend his golden hoard.
I hide but my head is outside.
A house full, a yard full, a chimney full, no one can get a spoonful.
You can spin, wheel and twist. But this thing can turn without moving.
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.
When they are caught, they are thrown away. When they escape, you itch all day.
What does man love more than life, fear more than death or mortal strife. What the poor have, the rich require, and what contented men desire. What the miser spends, and the spendthrift saves. And all men carry to their graves.
In we go, out we go. All around and in a row. Always, always steady flow. When we’ll stop, you’ll never known. In we go, out we go.
A cloud was my mother, the wind is my father. My son is the cool stream, and my daughter is the fruit of the land. A rainbow is my bed, the earth my final resting place. And I’m the torment of man.
Born of earth, but with none of its strength. Molded by flame, but with none of its power.
Remove the outside. Cook the inside. Eat the outside. Throw away the inside.
This is in a realm of true and in a realm false, but you experience me as you turn and toss.
There is an ancient invention. Still used in some parts of the world today. That allows people to see through walls.
Some live in me, some live on. And some shave me to stride upon. I rarely leave my native land. Until my death I always stand. High and low I may be found. Both above and below ground.
Metal or bone I may be, many teeth I have and always bared. Yet my bite harms no one. And ladies delight in my touch.
A Year of Riddles Answers March Levels:
I am a fire’s best friend. When fat, my body fills with wind. When pushed to thin, through my nose I blow. Then you can watch the embers glow.
Every dawn begins with me. At dusk I’ll be the first you see, and daybreak couldn’t come without. What midday centers all about. Daises grow from me, I’m told. And when I come, I end all code, but in the sun I won’t be found. Yet still, each day I’ll be around.
You heart it speak, for it has a hard tongue. But it cannot breathe, for it has not a lung.
I cut through evil like a double edged sword, and chaos flees at my approach. Balance I single-handedly upraise, through battles fought with heart and mind, instead of with my gaze.
The eight of us move forth and back. To protect our king from the foes attack.
He has one and a person has two. A citizen has three. And a human being has four. A personality has five. And an inhabitant of earth has six.
If you break me, I do not stop working. If you touch me, I may be snared. If you lose me, nothing will matter.
What’s in the middle of nowhere?
What force and strength cannot get through. I, with a gentle touch, can do. Many in the street would stand. Were I not a friend at hand.
Often held but never touched. Always wet but never rusts. Often bits but seldom bit. To use it well you must have wit.
As round as an apple. As deep as a cup. All the king’s horses can’t pull it up.
He stands beside the road. In a purple cap at tattered green cloak. Those who touch him, curse him.
Power enough to smash ships and crush roofs. Yet it still must fear the sun.
What surrounds the world, yet dwells within a thimble?
I cannot be other than what I am, until the man who made me dies. Power and glory will fall to me finally. Only when he last closes his eyes.
What is it that makes tears without sorrow. And takes its journey to heaven?
Inside a great blue castle lives a shy young maid. She blushes in the morning and comes not out at night.
This thing runs but cannot walk, sometimes sings but never talks. Lacks arms, has hands; lacks a head but has a face.
A word I know, six letters it contains. Subtract just one and twelve remains.
I go in hard and dry. I come out soft and sticky. You can blow me.
I am the yellow hem of the sea’s blue skirt.
A skin have I, more eyes than one. I can be very nice when I am done.
I have four legs but no tail. Usually I am heard only at night.
A tiny bead, like fragile glass, strung along a cord of grass.
Break it and it is better, immediately set and harder to break again.
Each morning I appear to lie at your feet, all day I follow no matter how fast you run. Yet I nearly perish in the midday sun.
What do you throw out to use and take in when you’re done?
What is it which builds things up? Lays mountains low? Dries up lakes, and makes things grow? Cares not a whim about your passing? And is like few other things, because it is everlasting.
I am the fountain from which no one can drink. For many I am considered a necessary link. Like gold to all I am sought for, but my continued death brings wealth for all to want more.
Sleeping during the day, I hide away. Watchful through the night, I open at dawn’s light. But only for the briefest time, do I shine. And then I hide away. And sleep through the day.
A seed am I, three letters make my name. Take away two and I still sound the same.