When liquid splashes me, none seeps through, When I’m moved a lot, liquid I spew, When I am hit, color I change, And colors I come in, quite a range, What I cover is quite complex, Yet I am very easy to flex.
You have a fox, a chicken and a sack of grain. You must cross a river with only one of them at a time. If you leave the fox with the chicken he will eat it; if you leave the chicken with the grain he will eat it. How can you get all three across safely?
Take the chicken over first. Go back and bring the grain next, but instead of leaving the chicken with the grain, come back with the chicken. Leave the chicken on the first side and take the fox with you. Leave it on the other side with the grain. Finally, go back over and get the chicken and bring it over.
A bird. They are hatched and raised in trees (nests), don’t have teeth in the traditional meaning of teeth and they lay eggs, which look nothing like a bird.
A slight inclination of the cranium is as adequate as a spasmodic movement of one optic to an equine quadruped utterly devoid of any visionary capacity.
Translate this rather strange sentence into one that is more sensible.
