The trouble is with socialism, which resembles a form of mental illness more than it does a philosophy. Socialists get bees in their bonnets. And because they chronically lack any critical faculty to examine and evaluate their ideas, and because they are pathologically unwilling to consider the opinions of others, and most of all, because socialism is a mindset that regards the individual – and his rights – as insignificant, compared to whatever the socialist believes the group needs, terrible, terrible things happen when socialists acquire power.
Blossom of the almond trees, April's gift to April's Bees.
Bees are not as busy as we think they are. They jest can't buzz any slower.kin hubbard
A spider conducts operations that resemble those of a weaver, and a bee puts to shame many an architect in the construction of her cells. But what distinguishes the worst of architects from the best of Bees is this, that the architect raises his structure in imagination before he erects it in reality.karl marx
It is usual to speak of the Fascist objective as the "beehive state", which does grave injustice to Bees. A world of rabbits ruled by stoats would be nearer the mark.george orwell
Bees are sometimes drowned in the honey which they collectso some writers are lost in their collected learning.Nathaniel Hawthorne
And they brought an Owl, and a useful Cart, And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees. And they brought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws, And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws, and forty Bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese.Edward Lear
The Ancient Egyptians considered it good luck to meet a swarm of Bees on the road. What they considered bad luck I couldn't say.will cuppy
I have just been thinking, and I have come to a very important decision. These are the wrong sort of Bees.
Forget not Bees in winter, though they sleep, For winter's big with summer in her womb.
The mad mob does not ask how it could be better, only that it be different. And when it then becomes worse, it must change again. Thus they get Bees for flies, and at last hornets for Bees.Martin Luther
No sun no moon no morn no noon, No dawn no dusk no proper time of day, No warmth no cheerfulness no healthful ease, No road, no street, no t' other side the way, No comfortable feel in any member No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no Bees, No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds, November!thomas hood
Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness, Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun; Conspiring with him how to load and bless With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run; To bend with apples the moss’d cottage-trees, And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core; To swell the ground, and plump the hazel shells With a sweet kernel; to set budding more, And still more, later flowers for the Bees, Until they think warm days will never cease, For Summer has o’er-brimm’d their clammy cells.john keats
And a breastplate made of daisies, Closely fitting, leaf on leaf, Periwinkles interlaced Drawn for belt about the waist; While the brown Bees, humming praises, Shot their arrows round the chief.
Forget not Bees in winter, though they sleep.
The trouble is with socialism, which resembles a form of mental illness more than it does a philosophy. Socialists get Bees in their bonnets. And because they chronically lack any critical faculty to examine and evaluate their ideas, and because they are pathologically unwilling to consider the opinions of others, and most of all, because socialism is a mindset that regards the individual and his rights as insignificant, compared to whatever the socialist believes the group needs, terrible, terrible things happen when socialists acquire power.
God made Bees, and Bees made honey, God made man, and man made money, Pride made the devil, and the devil made sin; So God made a cole-pit to put the devil in.
My banks they are furnish'd with Bees, Whose murmur invites one to sleep; My grottoes are shaded with trees, And my hills are white over with sheep.william shenstone
Caliban: As wicked dew as e'er my mother brush'd With raven's feather from unwholesome fen, Drop on you both! a south-west blow on ye, And blister you all o'er! Prospero: For this, be sure, to-night thou shalt have cramps, Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up; urchins Shall, for that vast of night that they may work, All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more stinging Than Bees that made 'em.william shakespeare