I’m a twisty, turny puzzle With lots of walls in sight. You try to find your way through me, But I keep turning left and right. What am I?

If you use me in moderation, you’ll feel fine; if you use me every day, I’ll do you harm and leave you with lasting effects.

my golden oil can be considered a sacrifice in a volcano, cultivated by the gods of olympus. What am I?

I'm armed from head to toe but never fight I thrive on thirst beneath the burning sky I bloom where beauty has no right The desert holds me, dare to try it?

In winter's grip, I hang so sly, A frozen spike against the sky. A drip turned solid, sharp and bright, I gleam in morning's first light.