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Bees Quotes

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Bees Quotes

“I was the kind of person that was very social and liked to be with an entourage and have lots of parties and have people around me. And now I find I am much more satisfied seeing people one-on-one. I avoid crowds, and I get really plagued by people as if they are bees or something. I am talking about my friends. I can only handle them one at a time.”

PeopleIfsKindPersonsI CanSocialPartyTalkingSeeingMy FriendsCrowdsHandleSatisfiedBeesGet RealOne On OneEntourage
Author:Sandra Cisneros
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“I must say what I admire most is the person who masters an area of practical experience, and can teach me something. I mean, my local midwife has taught me how to keep bees. Well, she can't understand anything I write. And I find myself liking her, may I say, more than most poets. And among my friends I find people who know all about boats or know all about certain sports, or how to cut somebody open and remove an organ. I'm fascinated by this mastery of the practical.”

PeopleKnowsWritingWellsMayMeanPersonsCertainSportsTeachCuttingTaughtPoetMastersMy FriendsAreasPracticalsLocalsAdmireBoatRemoveFascinatedMasteryOrgansBeesMidwifePractical Experience
Author:Sylvia Plath
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“My parents are amazing. When I said I wanted to go into film, they didn't understand it, but they were incredibly supportive. But growing up, I absolutely did have that feeling of, "Wow, somebody just gave me up." That was infused in The Secret Life of Bees too - the protagonist wanting unconditional love from her dead but much-imagined mother.”

SaidFeelingsWantedFilmMotherParentSecretGrowing UpGrowingUnconditional LoveWowBeesSupportiveUnconditionalProtagonistsSecret Life
Author:Gina Prince-Bythewood
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“A person who is too nice an observer of the business of the crowd, like one who is too curious in observing the labor of bees, will often be stung for his curiosity.”

PersonsBusinessNiceLaborCuriosityCrowdsObservationCuriousBeesObserversObservingOften IsToo NiceObserving The World
Book:A Supplementary Volume to the Works of Alexander Pope, Esq: Containing Pieces of Poetry, Not Inserted in Warburton's and Warton's Editions : and a Collection of Letters, Now First Published
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“We live in a dancing matrix of viruses; they dart, rather like bees, from organism to organism, from plant to insect to mammal to me and back again, and into the sea, tugging along pieces of this genome, strings of genes from that, transplanting grafts of DNA, passing around heredity as though at a great party.”

PartyPiecesSeaDancingPlantPassingPassingsStringsGenesBeesOrganismsDnaInsectsVirusesBack AgainMammalsHeredityGenomeTuggingGreat Party
Book:A Long Line of Cells Collected Essays
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“A multitude of bees can tell the time of day, calculate the geometry of the sun's position, argue about the best location for the next swarm. Bees do a lot of close observing of other bees; maybe they know what follows stinging and do it anyway.”

KnowsNextSunPositionArguingBeesMultitudesLocationObservingGeometrySwarmsTime Of Day
Book:Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler's Ninth Symphony
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“The days aren't discarded or collected, they are bees that burned with sweetness or maddened the sting: the struggle continues, the journeys go and come between honey and pain. No, the net of years doesn't unweave: there is no net. They don't fall drop by drop from a river: there is no river. Sleep doesn't divide life into halves, or action, or silence, or honor: life is like a stone, a single motion, a lonesome bonfire reflected on the leaves, an arrow, only one, slow or swift, a metal that climbs or descends burning in your bones.”

YearsActionPainLife IsFallSleepHalfSilenceStruggleJourneyHonorRiversStonesBonesBurningClimbsDividesHoneyMetalsBeesBurnedSweetnessArrowsLife Is LikeDiscardedLonesomeBonfire
Book:Still Another Day
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“I hadn't been out to the hives before, so to start off she gave me a lesson in what she called 'bee yard etiquette'. She reminded me that 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.”

IfsThinkingKnowsWorldWantFeelsLittlesLongStillsLike YouFineLessonsAngryIdiotLittle ThingsTemperPantsBeesYardsEtiquetteSleevesHivesWhistlingAgitate
Book:The Secret Life of Bees
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“Once upon a time there was a bear and a bee who lived in a wood and were the best of friends. All summer long the bee collected nectar from morning to night while the bear lay on his back basking in the long grass. When winter came the bear realised he had nothing to eat and thought to himself 'I hope that busy little bee will share some of his honey with me.' But the bee was nowhere to be found - he had died of a stress induced coronary disease.”

LittlesLongNightFoundMorningShareBearsDiseaseSummerStressDiedLaysWinterBusyWoodsGrassHoneyBeesRealisedOnce Upon A TimeNectarWall And PieceBaskingLittle BeeLong Grass
Author:Banksy
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“I mean to say, I know perfectly well that I've got, roughly speaking, half the amount of brain a normal bloke ought to possess. And when a girl comes along who has about twice the regular allowance, she too often makes a bee line for me with the love light in her eyes. I don't know how to account for it, but it is so." "It may be Nature's provision for maintaining the balance of the species, sir.”

KnowsWellsMayMeanLightEyeGirlLinesBrainHalfKnow HowStupidOughtAmountBalanceNormalAccountsSpeciesBeesHer EyesMaintainingProvisionAllowanceBlokes
Author:P. G. Wodehouse
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“Grampa took Mary Ellen inside away from the crowd. "Now, child, I am going to show you what my father showed me, and his father before," he said quietly. He spooned the honey onto the cover of one of her books. "Taste," he said, almost in a whisper. . . . "There is such sweetness inside of that book too!" he said thoughtfully. "Such things...adventure, knowledge and wisdom. But these things do not come easily. You have to pursue them. Just like we ran after the bees to find their tree, so you must also chase these things through the pages of a book!”

ChildrenSaidBookShowsFatherTreeAdventureTastePagesCrowdsPursueRanHoneyMaryBeesSweetnessKnowledge And Wisdom
Author:Patricia Polacco
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“Around us, life bursts with miracles--a glass of water, a ray of sunshine, a leaf, a caterpillar, a flower, laughter, raindrops. If you live in awareness, it is easy to see miracles everywhere. Each human being is a multiplicity of miracles. Eyes that see thousands of colors, shapes, and forms; ears that hear a bee flying or a thunderclap; a brain that ponders a speck of dust as easily as the entire cosmos; a heart that beats in rhythm with the heartbeat of all beings. When we are tired and feel discouraged by life's daily struggles, we may not notice these miracles, but they are always there.”

IfsFeelsHumansHeartMayEyeFormEasyWaterHuman BeingsBrainStruggleAwarenessColorFlowerShapesBeatsLaughterEarsMiracleTiredGlassesFlyingRhythmDustCosmosSunshineRaysBeesLeafsDiscouragedHeartbeatPonderingMultiplicitySpecksCaterpillarsRaindropsEyes That SeeDaily StruggleRay Of Sunshine
Book:Your True Home: The Everyday Wisdom of Thich Nhat Hanh: 365 days of practical, powerful teaching s from the beloved Zen teacher
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“we are continually overflowing toward those who preceded us, toward our origin, and toward those who seemingly come after us. ... It is our task to imprint this temporary, perishable earth into ourselves so deeply, so painfully and passionately, that its essence can rise again “invisibly,” inside us. We are the bees of the invisible. We wildly collect the honey of the visible, to store it in the great golden hive of the invisible.”

EarthTasksEssenceStoresInvisibleGoldenVisibleTemporaryHoneyBeesHives
Author:Rainer Maria Rilke
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“The thread has snapped. No sound even to mark the breaking let alone the fall. That long anticipated disintegration, when the darkest angel of all, the horror beyond all horrors, sits at last upon my chest, permanently enfolding me in its great covering wings, black as ink, veined in Bees' purple. A creature without a voice. A voice without a name. As immortal as my life. Come here at long last to summon the wind.”

LongLastsFallNamesSoundBlackVoiceWindHorrorCreaturesAngelMarkWingsImmortalChestsBeesThreadInkPurpleCoveringDisintegration
Book:Mark Z. Danielewski's House of leaves
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