What am I? Some riddles are short, some riddle are long, but all contain me. This riddle is the longest possible, no riddle has more of me than this one. It's beginning to look more like an essay than a riddle. Incidentally, essays have me too. In fact, every text in the world contains me. No matter how short or how long. Have you figured it out yet? It has to be said, it's really hard work to make a riddle that has the maximum of me. This riddle is getting so long, by now it's more like a book than a mere essay. By the way, have I told you yet that books also contain me? OK, we're almost at the end. Riddonkulous allows seven hundred and fifty of me, less if you are a novice. In the meantime, have you guessed what I am? Well done!!!

Hidden numbers, only counted with each delicious bite, Fuel for life's ceaseless motions, in the day or night. A unit of measurement, though difficult to keep in sight Each gives you energy, regardless if taken in misery or delight

Closed, I guard my secrets well. Opened, I begin to tell. Through ink and thought I build a door. Step inside and explore. What am I?

I'm some riddles, I'm used to describe eyelids. In other riddles, it's hair, or the end of your life. But actually, I have something to do with windows.

A slender thread of metallic grace, Connecting here and there with a trace, In the old days, it sang with a whispering hum, Carrying voices and electricity where they thrum.