labyrinth

As Fox explains in Making Time, a labyrinth of aging pipelines and forgotten wells crisscrosses the city.

It was a ponderous labyrinth of bolts, locks, and steel doors, making it an almost impregnable fortress.

As Margalit Fox says at the outset of The Riddle of the Labyrinth, the story of Linear B is well known.

This is wishful thinking: a plunge into the labyrinth with no thread to lead them back out.

As it has come down to us “on the borders of pottery and textiles, the meander resembles a maze or labyrinth.”

Here opens up, very evidently, a perfect labyrinth of complexity.

But it was the labyrinth for which the earlier economist held, so he thought, the thread.

What thread shall guide us in this labyrinth of conjectures and contradictions from the very first verse to the very last?

You will not wonder that I lose time and catch at every hope, rather than involve myself in that labyrinth of Chicane and expense.

It was approached through a labyrinth of streets that grew denser and darker as one neared the precincts of the club.