I would hate to be a bee. Be surrounded by bees all the time.
In November I'll be releasing my new solo record, entitled 'Box Of Bees'. There's no music, it's just a box full of live bees. The deluxe edition comes with more bees.
You're just a bee charmer, Idgie Threadgoode. That's what you are, a bee charmer.
It takes a bee 10,000,000 trips to collect enough nectar to make 1 pound of honey.
You never can tell with bees.
For a while, some schools across the country were banning spelling bees. For obvious reasons, of course - steroids
Let us turn elsewhere, to the wasps and bees, who unquestionably come first in the laying up of a heritage for their offspring.
Pretty things will swarm you like that, like your heart was a hive of electric bees.
For bees are captious folk And quick to turn against the lubber's touch.
5. Buggre Alle this for a Larke I amme sick to mye Hart of typefetinge. Master Biltonn if no Gentelmann, and Master Scagges now more that a tighte fisted Southwarke Knobbefticke. I telle you, onne a daye laike thif Ennywone withe half and oz of Sense shoulde bee oute in the Suneshain, ane nott Stucke here alle the lielong dale inn thif mowldey olde By-Our-Lady Workefhoppe *AE@;I*
Worker bees can leave. Even drones can fly away. The Queen is their slave.
An oath that is not to bee made is not to be kept.
People talk about mumblecore but I prefer bumblecore, hyper-realistic bee movies about how bees really are.
Harken to reason or shee will bee heard.
You put his brain in a bird, the bird would fly backwards" -Secret Life of the Bees
Those who have not been stung will hardly fear a bee the same as those who have.
There is nothing more mysterious about the concept human nature than about the concept bee or chicken nature, at least for those who regard humans as creatures in the biological world.
Precise, graceful, and generous, the poems in SuperLoop, seem to be born out of a deep, careful attention and a profound compassion. Sometimes the quiet observer, sometimes the kid in the center of the messed-up carnival, these poems are the fireflies you’ve missed all winter, the longed-for return of the bees. Unaffected and inherently hopeful, Callihan’s work is as merciful as it is moving.
Give me spots on my apples, but leave me the birds and the bees, please.
The genteel thing is the genteel thing any time, if as be that a gentleman bees in a concatenation accordingly.