“He—that's Simon Bolivar—was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes and his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness. Damn it," he sighed. "'How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!'"So what's the labyrinth?" I asked her."That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape—the world or the end of it?”

“He was shaken by the overwhelming revelation that the headlong race between his misfortunes ad his dreams was at that moment reaching the finish line. The rest was darkness, 'Damn it,' he sighed. 'How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!”

“That's the mystery, isn't it? Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape---the world or the end of it?”

“Damn it," he sighed. "How will I ever get out of this Labyrinth!”

“Is the labyrinth living or dying? Which is he trying to escape—the world or the end of it?”

“It's not about life or death, the labyrinth.""So what is it?""Suffering." she said. "Doing wrong and having wrong things happen to you. That's the problem. Bolivar was talking about the pain, not about living or dying. How do you get out of the labyrinth of suffering?”