Riddle:
My first is a negative greatly in use, By which people begin when they mean to refuse; My second is Fashion, or so called in France, But, like other whims, is the servant of chance. An article always in use is my whole, With texture and form under fashion's control; But, alas! not a thing can it see which goes by, Although many have four sights, and all have one eye.
What am I?
Riddle:
I am a tale in children's minds. I keep their secrets and share them inside. I blur their thoughts into fantasies kept Like a canvas of art or a submarine depth. Though an illusion, occurs every night; I give them a fantasy, I give them a fright. Nor good or bad, but It's interesting to tell.
What am I?
Riddle:
I'm a seed that's underground. Many like to spread me around. But my family it's said is quite insane. And if you've a low I.Q. you've this kind of brain. Eat me raw and I'll make you sick. Eat too much and your tongue will stick.
What am I?
Riddle:
My author's uncertain yet my title's the same, I contain random text yet order's my aim. Read me one day and see my pages are totally bare. Try again another day and the words will be there. I'm not a book of magic although it may sound, I can predict the future, and inside, your life can be found. Move my eye, I become involved in lactic extraction. But that's just a clue, a minor distraction.
What am I?
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