My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.

My life can be measured in hours, I serve by being devoured. Thin, I am quick. Fat, I am slow. Wind is my foe.

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A circle of stones, never in rows. Stacked one on the other, mystery it sows. What is it?

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Whoever makes it, tells it not. Whoever takes it, knows it not. Whoever knows it, wants it not

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What is it that makes tears without sorrow and takes its journey to heaven?

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If you happen to wear one of these warm garments around, you might get doused in red paint.

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My first is twice in apple but not once in tart. My second is in liver but not in heart. My third is in giant and also in ghost. Whole I’m best when I am roast.

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Riddle of the Day

Apr 03, 2026

If lightning strikes an orchestra who is the one most likely to get hit?

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