Pollen Quotes

Everything was blamed on Castro. Mudslides in California. The fact that you can’t buy a decent tomato anymore. Was there an exceptionally high pollen count in Massapequa, Long Island, one day? It was Castro, exporting sneezes.

News is often dispersed as thoughtlessly and effectively as that pollen which the bees carry off (having no idea how powdery they are) when they are buzzing in search of their particular nectar.

Nature is full of by-ends. A moth feeds on a petal, in a moment the pollen caught on its breast will be wedding this blossom to another in the next county.

I don’t want to explain to somebody what pollen is. That is the secret and the beauty and the power and the potential of all this.

To me songwriting is more like redemption. I can extract the poison or the pollen, the essence from a situation and the rest becomes a husk that blows away.

Like pollen on a honeybee, flattery clings to the things you tell yourself.

Sometimes I think of myself as a little bee. I go from one area of the studio to another and gather pollen and sort of stimulate everybody. I guess that’s the job I do.

Until it seems the whole city will be covered with gold pollen shaken from the bell-towers, lilies plundered with the weight of massive bees . . .

In your morning prayer each new day, ask Heavenly Father to guide you to recognize an opportunity to serve one of His precious children.

She tastes like nectar and salt. Nectar and salt and apples. Pollen and stars and hinges. She tastes like fairy tales. Swan maiden at midnight. Cream on the tip of a fox’s tongue. She tastes like hope.

Money is sullen And wisdom is sly, But youth is the pollen That blows through the sky And does not ask why.

We blame Walt Disney for goldenrod’s undeserved bad name. Despite Sneezy’s pronouncement, plants such as goldenrod with heavy, insect-carried pollen rarely cause allergic reaction.

The Navajo have that wonderful image of what they call the pollen path. The Navajo say, ‘Oh, beauty before me, beauty behind me, beauty to the right of me, beauty to the left of me, beauty above me, beauty below me, I’m on the pollen path.’

Outside, the September air was enticingly fragrant, yellow with pollen and rich, lemony sunlight.

I travel as much as I do. It isn’t the life I expected. I don’t know what dust of pollen will come back with me from these travels.But I must trust that I will not treat frivolously the glimpses I’ve been given into other places and others’ lives.

I had no more alphabet than the journeying of the swallows, the pure and tiny water of the small, fiery bird that dances rising from the pollen.

We have domesticated crops over a very long period of time, like tens of thousands of years. And crops get – seeds get carried. Sometimes, if they’re very small seeds, they get scattered off trucks. Pollen travels.

But look around at this world, how perfectly it’s made. Flowers can’t move, yet the insects come to them and spread their pollen. Trees can’t move either, but birds and animals eat their fruit and carry their seeds far and wide.

Books are the bees which carry the quickening pollen from one to another mind.