Someone writes on me to send to you on their travel trip, Made of thicker paper that's less likely to rip. On my front, I have an illustration that's a pretty sight, But my back remains blank for one to write, I'm a souvenir lover's delight!

I was an icon in the heyday of Microsoft word whenever you needed help. But often people did not like me. Now I am relegated to holding documents and being bent out of shape to clean hard to reach places.

A symbol, but started between the teeth. On the rude bird, it's a protective sheath.

The Machine Test: Prove you are breathing by staring at a screen. I hunt for the robots, though I am a machine. What am I?

Folded wisdom in your glove box, guiding hands as they roam, paths drawn in ink, a paper oracle of roads.