“Impatient people, according to Bacon, are like the bees, and kill themselves in stinging others.”

It will never rain roses: when we want to have more roses we must plant more trees.

Decide on what you think is right, and stick to it.

Genius … is necessarily intolerant of fetters.

We must find our duties in what comes to us, not in what might have been.

One has to spend many years in learning how to be happy.

Life is too precious to be spent in this weaving and unweaving of false impressions, and it is better to live quietly under some degree of misrepresentation than to attempt to remove it by the uncertain process of letter-writing.

There is hardly any contact more depressing to a young ardent creature than that of a mind in which years full of knowledge seem to have issued in a blank absence of interest or sympathy.

When death, the great reconciler, has come, it is never our tenderness that we repent of, but our severity.

We could never have loved the earth so well if we had had no childhood in it.

Appearances have very little to do with happiness.

The finest language is mostly made up of simple unimposing words.

“Abroad,” that large home of ruined reputations.

Joy and sorrow are both my perpetual companions, but the joy is called Past and the sorrow Present.

My own experience and development deepen every day my conviction that our moral progress may be measured by the degree in which we sympathize with individual suffering and individual joy.

People who live at a distance are naturally less faulty than those immediately under our own eyes.

To manage men one ought to have a sharp mind in a velvet sheath.

Chasing an errant swarm of bees is nothing to following a naked lunatic when the fit of escaping is upon him!

The Bee Gees no longer exist.

The Bee Gees are a fly-by-night sort of group.

I’m just getting better and better. It’s just like a bunch of worker bees protecting the king bee, because I’m not a queen bee. I’m a king bee.

If I could relive my life, what I would do is work with scientists. But not one scientist, because they’re locked into their little specializations.

The longed-for return of the bees. Unaffected and inherently hopeful, Callihan’s work is as merciful as it is moving.

Beautiful woman are like bees, stuck in their own honey.

I mean, I feel like you get more bees with honey. But that doesn’t mean I don’t get frustrated in my life.