Answer:
What does no man want, yet no man want to lose?
What goes up but never comes down?
As round as an apple. As deep as a cup. All the king's horses can't pull it up.
High born, my touch is gentle. Purest white is my lace. Silence is my kingdom. Green is the color of my death.
Something wholly unreal, yet seems real to I. Think my friend, tell me where does it lie?
If I say "everything I tell you is a lie", am I telling you the truth or a lie?