Our doom is, to be sifted by the wind, heaped up, smoothed down like silly sands. We are less permanent than thought.
All emotions are the ore from which poetry may be sifted.t. e. hulme
God sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Lo, sifted through the winds that blow, Down comes the soft and silent snow, White petals from the flowers that grow In the cold atmosphere.