Samuel Beckett

“But for me sitting near my sun-drenched hives, it would always be a noble thing to contemplate, too noble to be sullied by the cogitations of a man like me, exiled in his manhood. And I would never do my bees the wrong I had done to my God, to whom I had been taught to ascribe my angers, fears, desires, and even my body. I have spoken of a voice giving me orders, or rather advice. It was on my way home I heard it for the first time. I paid no attention to it. Physically speaking it seemed to me I was now becoming rapidly unrecognizable.”