My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer's cramp | Thinkmad.in

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My first is high, My second damp, My whole a tie, A writer’s cramp

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I ate one and threw away two

After I am made, You break me and re-make me. What am I?

As I went across the bridge, I met a man with a load of wood which was neither straight nor crooked. What kind of wood was it?

I gurgle but never speak, run but never walk, have a bed but never sleep. What am I?

It goes through the door without pinching. It sits on the stove without burning. It sits on the table Not ashamed. What is it?

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