i have not forgotten the first apiary i saw, where i learned to love the bees. to this spot an aged philosopher had retired, having become a little weary; and here he had built his refuge.

there were twelve of them, twelve domes of straw, and some of them he had painted a bright pink, and some of them a clear yellow, but most were a tender blue, for he had noticed the fondness of bees for this color.

we are taught by them at least that there are many things in nature that we cannot explain, and this induces us to look with more eagerness on the things around us.

and it is not without its effect on our thoughts and our feelings, and on all that we try to say.

maurice maeterlinck,
The Children's Life of Bees.