Quotes About Perfection

We waste time looking for the perfect lover, instead of creating the perfect love. "There is no such thing as a weird human being, It's just that some people require more understanding than others.

O Senhor não está satisfeito com nossas versões malfeitas de Sua Igreja perfeita.

A child. New life. Immune to evil or illness, protected from kidnap, beatings, rape, racism, insult, hurt, self-loathing, abandonment. Error-free. All goodness. Minus wrath. So they believe.

A perfect thing is not everything.

Just Imagine. No illness. Ever. No pain. No aging or frailty of any kind. No loss or grief or tears. And obviously no more dying, not even if the stars shattered into motes and the moon disintegrated like a corpse beneath the sea.

Had he lived, grown up to have flaws, human failings like deception, foolishness and ignorance, would he be so easy to adore or be even worthy of adoration?

It was no surprise that her sewing was so uneven, for to make even stiches the seamstress herself had to be steady. Abigail tended to hunch over her patchwork, her fingers and thread a snarl, and sew a few stiches before abandoning it to look down the road towards the houses near the general store, or to get up for a drink of water.

It's simple, Miss Philpot. This is one of God's early models, and He decided to give the subsequent ones smaller eyes." I raised my eyebrows. "Do you mean God rejected it?" "I mean God wanted a better version—the crocodile we know now—and replaced it.

practice doesn't make perfect; perfect practice makes perfect.

Beside the other two Wayland appeared clumsy, his shoulders almost too broad for the rest of his body, while he moved as clumsily as a bear too, tripping over things, knocking them down; except only when he was at work - and then his clumsiness like a bear's was also elegance; then each of his movements meshed in with the next, each of his muscles co-ordinated, the whole of him was focused to one end, like a sword towards the man it is killing. That end was perfection

The thing about perfection is that it is unknowable, it's impossible, but its also right in front of us, all the time

Turning our will and our lives over to this power means living in accordance with what is true; it means acting out of compassion and kindness; pursuing our noblest goals; seeking truth in all things; it means striving for perfection of heart and mind while bowing to the truth of who we are, with all our imperfections and failings.

A utopia has no problems to solve, but therefore no opportunities either.

Like God Gumbo is hard to get right & I don't bother asking for it outside my mother's house. Like life, there's no one way to do it, & a hundred ways, from here to Sunday, to get it dead wrong.

Each letter has a shape, she told them, one shape in the world and no other, and it is your responsibility to make it perfect.

I remember how the book talked about the pressure to please and be perfect that every woman falls into and then projects onto her daughter. Nothing is ever good enough. No woman can ever outrun what she has to do. No one can be all things - a mother, a good partner, a lover, as well as a competitor in the workplace.

How was she not the quintessential woman in our culture, compulsively pleasing others in order to achieve some degree of perfection and power that's forever just around the corner, out of reach? It was easier for her to disappear, to free herself finally from that body, to find a perfection in dying.

The Lord done real good when he crafted Miss Adelaide Cowherd.

I once wrote deduceable instead of deducible in a book, though nobody then or since has taken me up on it. A small point as they go, perhaps, but Rule I of writing acceptably is to get everything right as far as you can, and in this case I had neglected to.

A cat - a perfection of containment no amount of love or science could penetrate. One's involvement in other peoples' lives gave one numerous small opportunities for importance.

There's something about doing a job well that is akin to art.

But even a perfect pear can harbor a worm within.

How could you bear to refuse it?" Seven felt warm tears rising to her eyes, and slowly she reached out for Riley's hands. Her eyes were glistening, as well, as she accepted Seven's hand. "My individuality had become more important to me than the perfection the Caeliar were offering," Seven replied.

Neatness is the hobogoblin of little minds