nectar collection Quotes

How to extract its honey from the flower of the world. That is my everyday business. I am as busy as a bee about it. I ramble over fields on that errand and am never so happy as when I feel myself heavy with honey and wax. I am like a bee searching the livelong day for the sweets of nature.

When was ever honey made with one bee in a hive?

Forget not bees in winter, though they sleep.

O bees, sweet bees!" I said; "that nearest field Is shining white with fragrant immortelles Fly swiftly there and drain those honey wells.

A rose dreams of enjoying the company of bees, but none appears. The sun asks: “Aren’t you tired of waiting?” “Yes,” answers the rose, “but if I close my petals, I will wither and die.

The bees pillage the flowers here and there but they make honey of them which is all their own; it is no longer thyme or marjolaine: so the pieces borrowed from others he will transform and mix up into a work all his own.

When the bee has gathered the dew of heaven and the earth's sweetest nectar from the flowers, it turns it into honey, then hastens to its hive. In the same way, the priest, having taken from the altar the Son of God (who is as the dew from heaven, and true son of Mary, flower of our humanity), gives him to you as delicious food.

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.

My bees cover one thousand square miles of land that I do not own in their foraging flights, flying from flower to flower for which I pay no rent, stealing nectar but pollinating plants in return.

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

Everywhere bees go racing with the hours, / For every bee becomes a drunken lover, / Standing upon his head to sup the flowers.

Honey bees are amazing creatures. I mean, think about it, do earwigs make chutney?

Every bees hony is sweet.

For so work the honey bees, creatures that by a rule in nature teach the act of order to a peopled kingdom.

The botanist should make interest with the bees if he would know when the flowers open and when they close.

A bee rose up from a sun-filled paper cup, off to make slum honey from some diet root beer it had found inside.

It takes a bee 10,000,000 trips to collect enough nectar to make 1 pound of honey.

Even bees, the little almsmen of spring bowers, know there is richest juice in poison-flowers.

The little bee returns with evening's gloom, To join her comrades in the braided hive, Where, housed beside their might honey-comb, They dream their polity shall long survive.

No living creature, not even man, has achieved, in the centre of his sphere, what the bee has achieved in her own: and were some one from another world to descend and ask of the earth the most perfect creation of the logic of life, we should needs have to offer the humble comb of honey.