A Quote by Shannon Hale

No small thing, a bee's sting When it enters the heart Not so benign, the growing vine When it tears stone apart — © Shannon Hale
No small thing, a bee's sting When it enters the heart Not so benign, the growing vine When it tears stone apart
Like the bee, we distill poison from honey for our self-defense--what happens to the bee if it uses its sting is well known.
When a bee stings, she dies. She cannot sting and live. When men sting, their better selves die. Every sting kills a better instinct. Men must not turn bees and kill themselves in stinging others.
Some guys like to undermine a girl's self-esteem with little verbal jabs. Eventually it all adds up. One bee sting doesn't hurt a horse, but enough bee stings can kill a horse.
I hadn't been out to the hives before, so to start off she gave me a lesson in what she called 'bee yard etiquette'. She reminded me that the world was really one bee yard, and the same rules work fine in both places. Don't be afraid, as no life-loving bee wants to sting you. Still, don't be an idiot; wear long sleeves and pants. Don't swat. Don't even think about swatting. If you feel angry, whistle. Anger agitates while whistling melts a bee's temper. Act like you know what you're doing, even if you don't. Above all, send the bees love. Every little thing wants to be loved.
The Honey is sweet, but the Bee has a Sting.
Our God is not made of stone. His heart is the most sensitive and tender of all. No act goes unnoticed, no matter how insignificant or small. A cup of cold water is enough to put tears in the eyes of God. God celebrates our feeble expressions of gratitude.
Sweet love, sweet thorn, when lightly to my heart. I took your thrust, whereby I since am slain, And I lie disheveled in the grass apart, A sodden thing bedrenched by tears and rain.
Fame is a bee It has a song - It has a sting - Ah, too, it has a wing.
Tea is also a sort of spiritual refreshment, an elixir of clarity and wakeful tranquility. Respectfully preparing tea and partaking of it mindfully create heart-to-heart conviviality, a way to go beyond this world and enter a realm apart. No pleasure is simpler, no luxury cheaper, no consciousness-altering agent more benign.
The role of third parties is to sting like a bee, then die.
Past dreams of bliss our lives contain, And slight the chords that still retain A heart estranged to joys again, To scenes by memory's silver chain Close-linked, and ever yet apart, That like the vine, whose tendrils young Around some fostering branch have clung, Grown with its growth, as tho' it sprung From one united heart.
Heartache is good. Accept it joyously. Allow it, don't repress it. The natural tendency of the mind is to repress anything that is painful. By repressing it you will destroy something that is growing. The heart is meant to be broken. It's purpose is to melt into tears and evaporate. When the heart has evaporated exactly in the same place where the heart was, you come to know the deeper heart.
You employ stone, wood and concrete, and with these materials you build houses and palaces. That is construction. Ingenuity is at work. But suddenly you touch my heart, you do me good, I am happy and I say: This is beautiful. That is Architecture. Art enters in.
Speak with contempt of none, from slave to king, The meanest Bee hath, and will use, a sting.
Sting! I mean, come on - whoe doesn't love Sting? Even if you love Megadeath, you have respect for Sting. If you love Pokemon, you'll find out who Sting is someday.
In social matters, pointless conventions are not merely the bee sting of etiquette, but the snake bite of moral order.
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