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“Winter is for women —
The woman, still at her knitting,
At the cradle of Spanish walnut,
Her body a bulb in the cold and too dumb to think.
Will the hive survive, will the gladiolas
Succeed in banking their fires
To enter another year?
What will they taste of, the Christmas roses?
The bees are flying. They taste the spring.

— Sylvia Plath, from “Wintering,” Ariel. (Harper & Row 1966)”
― Sylvia Plath, Ariel

“What if the things she had chosen to make her seem individualistic had actually made her into an individual?”
― Paul Murray, The Bee Sting