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Our treasure lies in the beehive of our knowledge. We are perpetually on the way thither, being by nature winged insects and honey gatherers of the mind.
If you want to gather honey, don't kick over the beehive.
I was a big and un-ironic fan of Dear Abby when I was a kid in Chicago. I think I sort of internalized her. So I have this inner Abby: cranky, proper, folksy yet scathing, with a beehive hairdo. But that's my issue.
When you hear buzz around the beehive, you know they're making honey in there.
You can't beat the beehive for glam punkette attitude.
