Sift 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
im-not-designer-im-sifter-i-can-sift-everything-all-time-my-sift-level-lines-keep-shaking-all-time-for-everything-that-is-around-massimo-vignelli
and-when-is-there-time-to-remember-to-sift-to-weigh-to-estimate-to-total
sweet-talks-like-salt-you-can-add-some-later-if-need-be-but-if-you-pour-out-too-much-you-cant-sift-it-out-again-marcia-gruver
a-mash-contradictions-its-our-nature-to-tender-slow-as-you-sift-away-backjumper
the-use-criticism-in-periodical-writing-is-to-sift-not-to-stamp-work
your-turn-has-come-to-sift-through-dreck-humanity-for-rare-specks-originality-david-mitchell
trouble-is-sieve-through-which-we-sift-our-acquaintances-those-too-big-to-pass-through-are-our-friends-arlene-francis
reading-bible-is-like-dumpster-diving-you-sift-through-garbage-hoping-to-find-anything-value-nick-krampus
governments-entire-planets-are-important-threepio-but-when-you-sift-everything-down-theyre-all-just-made-people-timothy-zahn
when-life-is-going-according-to-plan-we-dont-stop-to-question-our-daily-habits-maybe-its-time-to-sift-through-our-lives-shirley-corder
i-have-two-young-kids-so-my-vcr-like-you-kind-have-to-sift-through-lot-like-animal-mechanicals-mickey-mouse-clubhouse-kathryn-hahn
ever-been-in-spelling-bee-as-kid-that-snowy-second-after-announcement-word-as-you-sift-your-brain-to-see-if-you-can-spell-it-it-was-like-that-blank-panic-gillian-flynn
we-would-sift-through-every-inch-what-it-was-that-worked-if-it-didnt-wonder-what-was-effective-in-it-in-terms-paint-subject-matter-size-drawing-helen-frankenthaler
it-is-perhaps-both-blessing-curse-that-fictional-worlds-spring-into-my-mind-nearly-fully-formed-it-takes-quite-while-to-sift-through-everything-erin-morgenstern
education-must-enable-one-to-sift-weigh-evidence-to-discern-true-from-false-real-from-unreal-facts-from-fiction-martin-luther-king
i-cant-compete-when-i-do-rules-engagement-change-in-middle-game-ill-let-powers-that-be-vanquish-themselves-return-in-three-to-five-years-to-ayn-rand
it-is-hard-troublesome-thing-to-dispose-whole-half-quartermistakes-to-sift-them-assign-portion-truth-to-its-proper-place-johann-wolfgang-von-goethe
my-painful-memories-sift-through-me-like-sand-through-stretched-fingers-only-small-pieces-cling-stay-around-for-me-to-keep-rest-just-disappear-i-know-not-where-i-dont-willow-madi
while-its-wonderful-that-investors-have-access-to-all-data-now-available-to-them-it-has-become-fulltime-job-to-sift-through-it-separate-out-maria-bartiromo
ill-get-boxes-full-books-objects-from-perfect-strangers-in-oddest-places-teachers-will-send-me-students-drawings-etc-its-hard-to-sift-through-it-all
a-friend-is-one-to-whom-one-may-pour-out-contents-ones-heart-chaff-grain-together-knowing-that-gentle-hands-will-take-sift-it-keep-what-is-worth-keeping-with-breath-kindness-blow
minority-is-about-being-individual-its-like-you-have-to-sift-through-darkness-to-find-your-place-be-that-individual-you-want-to-be-your-entire-life-billie-joe-armstrong
and-the-lord-said-simon-simon-behold-satan-hath-desired-to-have-you-that-he-may-sift-you-as-wheat
its-easy-to-put-music-out-that-its-difficult-to-sift-through-stuff-that-i-dont-like-to-find-stuff-i-do-like-mark-hoppus
you-cannot-sift-out-the-poor-from-the-community-the-poor-are-indispensable-to-the-rich
when-you-sift-through-realities-you-will-come-to-conclusion-that-right-sentence-is-life-sentence-richard-burr
simon-simon-satan-has-asked-to-sift-you-as-wheat-luke-2231
at-deloitte-our-programs-for-veterans-are-bringing-new-approaches-to-table-for-instance-were-helping-veterans-organizations-use-data-analytics-to-sift-through-streams-information
the-thing-is-to-sift-out-important-sounds-little-syllables-vowels-that-bring-hints-their-lost-words-not-to-mistake-fossil-for-life-kiss-for-love-not-to-mistake-fragment-for-sente
we-are-entering-era-heightened-disaster-thanks-to-climate-change-being-prepared-for-disaster-will-mean-being-prepared-to-sift-truth-from-rumour-being-prepared-to-adjust-our-world
because-it-hardly-ends-with-falling-in-love-just-opposite-i-dont-need-to-tell-you-your-honor-i-sense-that-you-understand-true-loneliness-how-you-fall-in-love-its-there-that-work-
We cleave our way through the mountains until the interstate dips into a wide basin brimming with blue sky, broken by dusty roads and rocky saddles strung out along the southern horizon. This is our first real glimpse of the famous big-sky country to come, and I couldn't care less. For all its grandeur, the landscape does not move me. And why should it? The sky may be big, it may be blue and limitless and full of promise, but it's also really far away. Really, it's just an illusion. I've been wasting my time. We've all been wasting our time. What good is all this grandeur if it's impermanent, what good all of this promise if it's only fleeting? Who wants to live in a world where suffering is the only thing that lasts, a place where every single thing that ever meant the world to you can be stripped away in an instant? And it will be stripped away, so don't fool yourself. If you're lucky, your life will erode slowly with the ruinous effects of time or recede like the glaciers that carved this land, and you will be left alone to sift through the detritus. If you are unlucky, your world will be snatched out from beneath you like a rug, and you'll be left with nowhere to stand and nothing to stand on. Either way, you're screwed. So why bother? Why grunt and sweat and weep your way through the myriad obstacles, why love, dream, care, when you're only inviting disaster? I'm done answering the call of whippoorwills, the call of smiling faces and fireplaces and cozy rooms. You won't find me building any more nests among the rose blooms. Too many thorns.

Jonathan Evison
we-cleave-our-way-through-mountains-until-interstate-dips-into-wide-basin-brimming-with-blue-sky-broken-by-dusty-roads-rocky-saddles-strung-out-along-southern-horizon-this-is-our
On cool autumn nights, eels hurrying to the sea sometimes crawl for a mile or more across dewy meadows to reach streams that will carry them to salt water.' These are adult eels, silver eels, and this descent that slid down my mind in the fall from a long spring ascent the eels made years ago... sometimes as high as 8, 000 feet above sea level. There they lived without breeding 'for at least 8 years.' In the late summer of the year they reached maturity, they stopped eating, and their dark color vanished. They turned silver; now they are heading to the sea. Down streams to rivers, down rivers to the seas, south in the North Atlantic where they meet, they are returning to the Sargasso Sea, where, in floating sargassum weed in the deepest waters of the Atlantic, they will mate, release their eggs, and die. This, the whole story of eels at which I have just hinted, is extravagant to the extremes, and food for another kind of thought, a thought about the meaning of such wild, incomprehensible gestures. Imagine a chilly night and a meadow; balls of dew droop from the curved grass. All right: the grass at the edge of the meadow begins to tremble and sway. Here come the eels. The largest are five feet long. They stream into the meadow, sift between grasses, veer from your path. There are too many to count. All you see is a silver slither, like twisted ropes of water falling roughly... If I saw that sight, would I live? If I stumbled across it, would I ever set foot out of my door again? Or would I be seized to join that compelling rush, would I cease eating, and pale, and abandon all to start walking?

Annie Dillard
on-cool-autumn-nights-eels-hurrying-to-sea-sometimes-crawl-for-mile-more-across-dewy-meadows-to-reach-streams-that-will-carry-them-to-salt-water-these-are-adult-eels-silver-eels-
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
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
Why two (or whole groups) of people can come up with the same story or idea at the same time, even when across the world from each-other: "A field is a region of influence, where a force will influence objects at a distance with nothing in between. We and our universe live in a Quantum sea of light. Scientists have found that the real currency of the universe is an exchange of energy. Life radiates light, even when grown in the dark. Creation takes place amidst a background sea of energy, which metaphysics might call the Force, and scientists call the "Field." (Officially the Zero Point Field) There is no empty space, even the darkest empty space is actually a cauldron of energies. Matter is simply concentrations of this energy (particles are just little knots of energy.) All life is energy (light) interacting. The universe is self-regenreating and eternal, constantly refreshing itself and in touch with every other part of itself instantaneously. Everything in it is giving, exchanging and interacting with energy, coming in and out of existence at every level. The self has a field of influence on the world and visa versa based on this energy. Biology has more and more been determined a quantum process, and consciousness as well, functions at the quantum level (connected to a universe of energy that underlies and connects everything). Scientist Walter Schempp's showed that long and short term memory is stored not in our brain but in this "Field" of energy or light that pervades and creates the universe and world we live in. A number of scientists since him would go on to argue that the brain is simply the retrieval and read-out mechanism of the ultimate storage medium - the Field. Associates from Japan would hypothesize that what we think of as memory is simply a coherent emission of signals from the "Field," and that longer memories are a structured grouping of this wave information. If this were true, it would explain why one tiny association often triggers a riot of sights, sounds and smells. It would also explain why, with long-term memory in particular, recall is instantaneous and doesn't require any scanning mechanism to sift through years and years of memory. If they are correct, our brain is not a storage medium but a receiving mechanism in every sense, and memory is simply a distant cousin of perception. Some scientists went as far as to suggest that all of our higher cognitive processes result from an interaction with the Field. This kind of constant interaction might account for intuition or creativity - and how ideas come to us in bursts of insight, sometimes in fragments but often as a miraculous whole. An intuitive leap might simply be a sudden coalescence of coherence in the Field. The fact that the human body was exchanging information with a mutable field of quantum fluctuation suggested something profound about the world. It hinted at human capabilities for knowledge and communication far deeper and more extended than we presently understand. It also blurred the boundary lines of our individuality - our very sense of separateness. If living things boil down to charged particles interacting with a Field and sending out and receiving quantum information, where did we end and the rest of the world began? Where was consciousness-encased inside our bodies or out there in the Field? Indeed, there was no more 'out there' if we and the rest of the world were so intrinsically interconnected. In ignoring the effect of the "Field" modern physicists set mankind back, by eliminating the possibility of interconnectedness and obscuring a scientific explanation for many kinds of miracles. In re-normalizing their equations (to leave this part out) what they'd been doing was a little like subtracting God.

Lynne McTaggart
why-two-whole-groups-people-can-come-up-with-same-story-idea-at-same-time-even-when-across-world-from-eachother-a-field-is-region-influence-where-force-will-influence-objects-at-
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