Quotes about bees

We are bees then our honey is language.

How were they to square the tremendous wealth they accrued with their image of themselves as frugal and virtuous? Easy: just argue that commerce was itself virtuous. To be rich in corrupt old Europe must be a sign of droneishness but to be rich in fresh young American was the fruit of hard work. The beehive provided Americans with the ideal image for their religion of work.

Everything about her was sweet, pale like honey. You would not have been surprised to see a bee caught in the tangles of that yellow hair.

I should send my bees ashore for you, upon my sacred honour.

Well, I will wear the bees, like Damon and Pythagoras – ho, a mere sixty thousand bees in the cabin don't signify, much.

If bees die, people will die. Only ignorance never dies! ("Why step out of nature ?")

Handle a book as a bee does a flower, extract its sweetness but do not damage it.

Is that you giggling away to glory?Or is that just the flowers mingling with the bees and telling their story?

Love is a strange feeling! And you cannot understand what happens to you when it does happen to you. Some days you feel as if you are floating over the wispy clouds and the majestic mountains. Other days you feel as if you are swimming alongside the beautiful myriad colored fishes in the vast ocean. Some days you feel as if you can understand the language of the birds and the bees and other days you feel as if the walls and doors are talking to you!

Awestruck, Flora stared at the dishevelled sisters with their blazing faces and radiant ragged wings, who smelled of no kin but the wild high air.

If the bee disappeared off the face of the earth, man would only have four years left to live.

The only time I ever believed that I knew all there was to know about beekeeping was the first year I was keeping them. Every year since I’ve known less and less and have accepted the humbling truth that bees know more about making honey than I do.

If only thy eyes flutter once, the bees lose their direction and the fighting men their aim!

To be successful, one has to be one of three bees - the queen bee, the hardest working bee, or the bee that does not fit in.

To be successful, one has to be one of three bees - the queen bee, the hardest working bee, or the bee that does not fit in. One success is inherited, and the the next one is earned. While the last one is self-sought, self-served, and happens on its own terms.

You are the ocean, let the rivers come to you. You are the flower, let the bees come to you.

If I were a flower,humming bird would be my favourite beeAnd If I were blind,the light of darkness I'd love to see

A poor old Widow in her weedsSowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;Not too shallow, and not too deep,And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.Up shone May, like gold, and soonGreen as an arbour grew leafy June.And now all summer she sits and sewsWhere willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;Like Oberon's meadows her garden isDrowsy from dawn to dusk with

Love is for the birds.Honey is for the bees.And you, my special one.Are the only one for me.

I’m quietly sipping my coffee,sitting on the deck,settled in to my little jungle of herbs and buzzing bees,letting my thoughts wander, soaked in the warmth of the rising sun.Breathing in and out the soft air filling the moment with fluids of peace.

...The world was really one bee yard, and the same rules work fine in both places. Don't be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don't be an idiot; wear long sleeves and pants. Don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. If you feel angry, whistle. Anger agitates while whistling melts a bee's temper. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.

Mindfulness is not the path of chasing. It is the path of beautification. When flowers blossom, the fragrance spreads, and the bees come.

I don't like to hear cut and dried sermons. No—when I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees.

To make a prairie it takes a clover and one bee,One clover, and a bee,And revery.The revery alone will do,If bees are few.

A big bee, a golden furry fellow, crept into a freesia, and the delicate flower leaned over, swung, shook; and when the bee flew away it fluttered still as though it were laughing. Happy, careless flower!

The fun part is finding which thoughts, in that crazy beehive of emotion, are the ones that mass produce the honey.

There is nothing perfect...only life.

Everything takes time. Bees have to move very fast to stay still.

Fairies with gossamer wings, Bring forth beauty, grace and joyful things. Fairies of the earth are caretakers of our soil, water and trees,They watch over beautiful creatures such as bears, bunnies and bees.Fairies ask that you breathe in and appreciate the vantage point from which you stand,Then trod carefully and respectfully with each intentional step you make across this beautiful land.

It was my uncle who taught me about the birds and the bees. He sat me down one day and said, 'Remember this, George, the birds fuck the bees.' Then he told me he once banged a girl so hard her freckles came off.

The quickest way to find honey is to follow bees.

Newborn babies can't do much on their own-They can't eat or walk or talk on the phone-But every parent is sure their creation is without a doubt a tremendous sensation.

If bees only gathered nectar from perfect flowers, they wouldn’t be able to make even a single drop of honey.

The word animal is a derivative of the Greek word anima, which also means soul.

So at last Ilar Sant came to this wood, which people now call St. Hilary's wood because they have forgotten all about Ilar. And he was weary with his wandering, and the day was very hot; so he stayed by this well and began to drink. And there on that great stone he saw the shining fish, and so he rested, and built an altar and a church of willow boughs, and offered the sacrifice not only for the quick and the dead, but for all the wild beasts of the woods and the streams."And when this blessed I

One can no more approach people without love than one can approach bees without care. Such is the quality of bees...

The bee's life is like a magic well: the more you draw from it, the more it fills with water

The green began to seethe.

717! You are behaving like a demented bluebottle - stop that!

I hope it's the good kind of dilemma," Reginald broke Patricia's reverie. "Whatever one you're on the horns of."..."I was just thinking," she said. "There are so many scary problems in the world. Like, I was just reading that we could be seeing the last of the bees in North America soon. And if that happened, food webs would just collapse, and tons more people would starve. But suppose you had the power to change things? You still might not be able to fix anything, because every time you solve a

Back in those days there was still an unbroken stretch of heath that lay on the route of our excursions, all that was left of a heath that once had extended almost up to the town on the one side and almost to the little village on the other. Here the honeybees and white-gray bumblebees hummed over the fragrant blossoms of heather, and the beautiful gold-green beetles ran among the plants; here in the sweet clouds of the erica and the resinous bushes hovered butterflies that could be found nowher

For better or worse, honeybees are often much too busy to be bothered with personal reflection.

My mind feels like a beehive without the buzz.

When the flower blooms, the bees come uninvited.

In the village, a sage should go about Like a bee, which, not harmingFlower, colour or scent, Flies off with the nectar.

We think we can make honey without sharing in the fate of bees, but we are in truth nothing but poor bees, destined to accomplish our task and then die.

The garden flourished that summer because Magnus's mother was determined to feed her family despite the depredations of the distant war. In the fall, there were beans and tomatoes and pickles to can, and jar after jar of applesauce. Mama's hives yielded fresh honey, and then willow skeps were winterized. The bees would not come out until the air warmed and the sun appeared.

They all seemed hungry, happy, and healthy enough in their buzzing—oh the days were hot, and the noise of bees filled the air that was dusty with pollen and sun haze, and there were tiny black flies stuck to one another crowded by the creek and a creek stink rising from the deep pool under the willow tree where a wheat sack of new kittens had been drowned, and their tiny terrible struggling had shot like an electric current through the confusion of muddy water and up the arm of the person who ha

Santa is like a queen bee. All the elves are his drones, who exist to feed him royal jelly, which I guess would be milk and cookies. If an elf escapes and eats royal cookies, it will turn into another Santa. That’s what all those mall Santas are. They’re trying to start their own festive colonies.

The bee is domesticated but not tamed.

Darwin called such a process artificial, as opposed to natural, selection, but from the flower’s point of view, this is a distinction without a difference: individual plants in which a trait desired by either bees or Turks occurred wound up with more offspring.

Even the bees I'd swear were sent to protect us in the delicate business of hives and honey are stung to silence by the news that something winged has lost its flight.

All the bees knew Sugar; they carried their feelings for her with them in their genes, they could sense her from more than half a mile away and would no sooner find her a threat than fly to the moon. But Elizabeth the First sensed Grady Parkes from half a mile away too, and her resulting hum was not one of blissful content. It was his smell, partly: an aftershave, with base notes of tobacco and cedar and a hint of bitter herbs, and his natural scent, which was too sour for Elizabeth the First's

I like pulling on a baggy bee suit, forgetting myself and getting as close to the bees' lives as they will let me, remembering in the process that there is more to life than the merely human.

No matter how right or how beautiful your path is, never try to impose your path on others! Remember that flowers by no means pull bees by force to their world! Your path is your poem; if people like your poem, they will fondly join you in your path!

For this,let gardens grow, where beelines end,sighing in roses, saffron blooms, buddleia;where bees pray on their knees, sing, praisein pear trees, plum trees; beesare the batteries of orchards, gardens, guard them.

THE THREE BEES by Suzy KassemA young boy once askedA wealthy beekeeper:“What is the secret ofYour success?”The beekeeper simply smiledAnd replied:“To be successful,One has to be one of three bees:The queen bee,The hardest working bee,Or the bee that does not fit in.One success is inherited,And the next one is earned.While the last one isSelf-sought,Self-served,And happens on its ownTerms.”“And which bee are you?”Asked the boy.The beekeeper then wipedThe sweat from his headAnd said:“The last may

Collaboration is the essence of life. The wind, bees and flowers work together, to spread the pollen.

Respect the colony as an organism rather than a mechanism with interchangeable parts.

The bee has round it a mysterious inscription, which has been variously interpreted. It contains an allusion to beeswax, and one scholar has suggested that the tesserae were druggists’ tokens for the purpose of advertising the sale of beeswax. Another explanation is that the inscription might be one of the mysterious magic formulae used as charms, and that the tokens might be charms to call the bees home when swarming; but the most plausible solution seems to be that the tesserae were connected

Bees do have a smell, you know, and if they don't they should, for their feet are dusted with spices from a million flowers.

Flora took pleasure in the delicacy of her approach and studied the ways of the smallest, sweetest blooms she could find, tiny pimpernels and forget-me-nots hiding in the pockets of the fields. The energy of the sun on her body and the joy of foraging filled her soul. She flew the fields and gathered until the light began to fade and she heard the sound of her forager sisters' wings turning for home. Then she joined them.

Sadly, we live in a world where if you do good things, there are no financial rewards. If you poison the earth, there is a fortune to be made.

This time of year, the purple blooms were busy with life- not just the bees, but butterflies and ladybugs, skippers and emerald-toned beetles, flitting hummingbirds and sapphire dragonflies. The sun-warmed sweet haze of the blossoms filled the air."When I was a kid," said Isabel, "I used to capture butterflies, but I was afraid of the bees. I'm getting over that, though." The bees softly rose and hovered over the flowers, their steady hum oddly soothing. The quiet buzzing was the soundtrack of h

Look tonight at the stars. Let them overwhelm you in the postures of their bright dance. Face the vastness which they dot like silver bees, and sound with your own brain the mystery, hazarding at the inscrutable plan of things.

It is the honey which makes us cruel enough to ignore the death of a bee

Some guys like to undermine a girl's self-esteem with little verbal jabs. Eventually it all adds up. One bee sting doesn't hurt a horse, but enough bee stings can kill a horse.