There are certain pursuits which, if not wholly poetic and true, do at least suggest a nobler and finer relation to nature than we know. The keeping of bees, for instance.
There is a number among us, young and old, of all sorts almost among us, that swarm up and down towns, and woods, and fields, whose care and work hitherto hath been like bees, only to get honey to their own hive.
The bees learn where they live by landmarks. If they're moved within their home range, they get confused.
When the flower blooms, the bees come uninvited.
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.
Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.
When I hear a man preach, I like to see him act as if he were fighting bees.
When you go in search of honey you must expect to be stung by bees.
Religion was nearly dead because there was no longer real belief in future life; but something was struggling to take its place - service - social service - the ants creed, the bees creed.
It's wonderful to me that bees have this simple, age-old thing going on.
Let us turn elsewhere, to the wasps and bees, who unquestionably come first in the laying up of a heritage for their offspring.
In Tarzan I only had to worry about the 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.
You've never seen death? Look in the mirror every day and you will see it like bees working in a glass hive.
It was a great thing to be a human being. It was something tremendous. Suddenly I'm conscious of a million sensations buzzing in me like bees in a hive. Gentlemen, it was a great thing.