Seeping Quotes

Authors: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
Categories: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
anger-has-a-way-of-seeping-into-every-other-emotion-and-planting-itself-in-there
i-could-see-her-will-leaving-death-seeping-through-her-skin-to-skewer-her-soul-jd-stroube
when-you-notice-light-seeping-into-your-coffin-its-hard-to-go-on-pretending-that-youre-still-dead-john-burdett
the-creeper039s-blood-is-seeping-from-this-undead-wood-and-and-let-it-pour
the-climate-change-movement-is-river-overflowing-seeping-into-every-nook-cranny-terry-tempest-williams
as-she-brought-prospective-buyers-through-realtor-said-it-was-oil-stain-but-it-was-me-seeping-out-bag-alice-sebold
the-movies-have-way-seeping-out-there-over-time-we-dont-put-them-in-2000-theaters-it-wouldnt-work-that-way
prejudice-is-seeping-dark-stain-i-think-more-difficult-to-fight-than-hatredwhich-is-powerful-violent-somehow-more-honest-josephine-lawrence
i-think-my-own-personal-style-always-ends-up-seeping-into-characters-that-i-play-ive-always-had-distinct-idea-fashion-for-myself-what-character-zooey-deschanel
mans-guilt-in-history-in-tides-his-own-blood-has-been-complicated-by-technology-daily-seeping-falsehearted-death-don-delillo
theres-nothing-like-taking-two-flights-when-you-have-horrible-hangover-its-bad-when-people-can-see-actual-alcohol-seeping-out-your-disgusting-pores
when-people-we-love-stop-paying-attention-trust-begins-to-slip-away-hurt-starts-seeping-in
a-single-act-kindness-is-like-drop-oil-on-patch-dry-skinseeping-spreading-affecting-more-than-original-need-richelle-e-goodrich
he-was-following-earth-through-its-days-drifting-with-rhythms-its-myriad-pulses-seeping-through-webs-its-life-swelling-with-its-tides-turning-with-its-weight-douglas-adams
hot-heartblood-leaked-from-my-face-from-my-eyes-my-nose-my-mouth-not-tears-because-those-would-never-stop-this-was-just-liquid-heartbreak-seeping-from-my-pores-jasinda-wilder
those-who-have-no-mental-vigilance-though-they-may-hear-teachings-ponder-them-meditate-with-minds-like-water-seeping-from-leaking-jug-their-shantideva
my-life-was-pouring-out-my-feet-seeping-through-cracks-in-floor-yet-still-i-knelt-did-not-move-for-fear-shed-let-go-my-hands-let-me-stay-i-wanted-to-beg-please-dont-make-me-go-so
the-calmness-was-fracturing-tendrils-fear-seeping-through-her-mind-like-ivy-once-fear-consumed-her-shed-run-caroline-hanson
the-supreme-good-life-is-vitality-and-vitality-is-always-seeping-away-roberto-unger
theres-light-pulsing-somewhere-its-soft-amber-glow-gently-seeping-into-delicate-skin-covering-my-eyes-pooling-in-tiny-gullies-on-either-side-my-nose-my-body-feels-heavy-burdened-
to-my-surprise-i-began-to-know-what-the-language-was-about-not-just-part-we-were-singing-now-but-whole-poem-it-began-with-praise-joy-in-all-creation-copying-voice-wind-sea-it-des
Say you could view a time lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, 'an infinite storm of beauty.' The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth's face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting, and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up- mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash-frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and crumble, like paths of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any image but the hunched shadowless figures of ghosts. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

Annie Dillard
say-you-could-view-time-lapse-film-our-planet-what-would-you-see-transparent-images-moving-through-light-infinite-storm-beauty-the-beginning-is-swaddled-in-mists-blasted-by-rando
And under the cicadas, deeper down that the longest taproot, between and beneath the rounded black rocks and slanting slabs of sandstone in the earth, ground water is creeping. Ground water seeps and slides, across and down, across and down, leaking from here to there, minutely at a rate of a mile a year. What a tug of waters goes on! There are flings and pulls in every direction at every moment. The world is a wild wrestle under the grass; earth shall be moved. What else is going on right this minute while ground water creeps under my feet? The galaxy is careening in a slow, muffled widening. If a million solar systems are born every hour, then surely hundreds burst into being as I shift my weight to the other elbow. The sun's surface is now exploding; other stars implode and vanish, heavy and black, out of sight. Meteorites are arcing to earth invisibly all day long. On the planet, the winds are blowing: the polar easterlies, the westerlies, the northeast and southeast trades. Somewhere, someone under full sail is becalmed, in the horse latitudes, in the doldrums; in the northland, a trapper is maddened, crazed, by the eerie scent of the chinook, the sweater, a wind that can melt two feet of snow in a day. The pampero blows, and the tramontane, and the Boro, sirocco, levanter, mistral. Lick a finger; feel the now. Spring is seeping north, towards me and away from me, at sixteen miles a day. Along estuary banks of tidal rivers all over the world, snails in black clusters like currants are gliding up and down the stems of reed and sedge, migrating every moment with the dip and swing of tides. Behind me, Tinker Mountain is eroding one thousandth of an inch a year. The sharks I saw are roving up and down the coast. If the sharks cease roving, if they still their twist and rest for a moment, they die. They need new water pushed into their gills; they need dance. Somewhere east of me, on another continent, it is sunset, and starlings in breathtaking bands are winding high in the sky to their evening roost. The mantis egg cases are tied to the mock-orange hedge; within each case, within each egg, cells elongate, narrow, and split; cells bubble and curve inward, align, harden or hollow or stretch. And where are you now?

Annie Dillard
and-under-cicadas-deeper-down-that-longest-taproot-between-beneath-rounded-black-rocks-slanting-slabs-sandstone-in-earth-ground-water-is-creeping-ground-water-seeps-slides-across
Say you could view a time-lapse film of our planet: what would you see? Transparent images moving through light, 'an infinite storm of beauty.' The beginning is swaddled in mists, blasted by random blinding flashes. Lava pours and cools; seas boil and flood. Clouds materialize and shift; now you can see the earth's face through only random patches of clarity. The land shudders and splits, like pack ice rent by a widening lead. Mountains burst up, jutting and dull and soften before your eyes, clothed in forests like felt. The ice rolls up, grinding green land under water forever; the ice rolls back. Forests erupt and disappear like fairy rings. The ice rolls up-mountains are mowed into lakes, land rises wet from the sea like a surfacing whale- the ice rolls back. A blue-green streaks the highest ridges, a yellow-green spreads from the south like a wave up a strand. A red dye seems to leak from the north down the ridges and into the valleys, seeping south; a white follows the red, then yellow-green washes north, then red spreads again, then white, over and over, making patterns of color too swift and intricate to follow. Slow the film. You see dust storms, locusts, floods, in dizzying flash frames. Zero in on a well-watered shore and see smoke from fires drifting. Stone cities rise, spread, and then crumble, like patches of alpine blossoms that flourish for a day an inch above the permafrost, that iced earth no root can suck, and wither in a hour. New cities appear, and rivers sift silt onto their rooftops; more cities emerge and spread in lobes like lichen on rock. The great human figures of history, those intricate, spirited tissues that roamed the earth's surface, are a wavering blur whose split second in the light was too brief an exposure to yield any images. The great herds of caribou pour into the valleys and trickle back, and pour, a brown fluid. Slow it down more, come closer still. A dot appears, like a flesh-flake. It swells like a balloon; it moves, circles, slows, and vanishes. This is your life.

Annie Dillard
say-you-could-view-timelapse-film-our-planet-what-would-you-see-transparent-images-moving-through-light-infinite-storm-beauty-the-beginning-is-swaddled-in-mists-blasted-by-random
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