Quotes About Perfection

There is only good vodka and very good vodka—there is no such thing as bad vodka.

And for a moment he simply held her and she held onto him. It might have been the most perfect moment of his life so far.

It was a damned awkward undertaking, trying to think of loving words, and he had absolutely no experience in this area, but he was still determined not to muck it up. Even with his men watching, he wanted the words to be right, his declaration to be one she would always remember. The moment needed to be perfect for her. Judith, he began. Yes, Iain? I'm keeping you.

She was a refreshing diversion in perfection.

It was what human hands had not brought to the building, and could not remove. It was like love, he thought, this crumbling chapel: It had been complicated, and thereby perfected, by what time had done to it.

You are being very demanding indeed. Where, I wonder, will we find the woman to satisfy you You really should have stayed single--all woman-worshippers should be single. They never find the woman who answers all the requirements.

Descartes's argument turns out to be a reworking of Anselm's Ontological Proof. When we doubt, the limitations and finite nature of the ego are revealed. Yet we could not arrive at the idea of "imperfection" if we did not have a prior conception of "perfection." Like Anselm, Descartes concluded that a perfection that did not exist would be a contradiction in terms.

Het was absurd, stelde Filo, om het eerste hoofdstuk van Genesis letterlijk op te vatten en te denken dat de wereld in zes dagen was geschapen. Het getal 'zes' was een symbool voor volmaaktheid.

In fact, you could almost hold that no man is perfect until he meets the right woman.

The central inner conflict is one between the constructive forces of the real self and the obstructive forces of the pride system, between healthy growth and the drive to prove in actuality the perfection of the idealized self.

The morning sun danced on her hair, transforming the brown to gold and reddish glints. An errant sunbeam angled over her face, dusting her long lashes with light, accentuating the perfection of her nose, her cheekbones, and the beauty of her complexion.

Maybe that's why Claire had perfected the art of invisibility. It was a form of self-preservation. You couldn't resent what you could not see. She was so quiet, but she noticed everything. Her eyes tracked the world like it was a book written in a language that she could not understand. There was nothing timorous about her, but you got the feeling that she always had one foot out the door. If the situation got too hard, or too intense, she would simply disappear.

All the sneakiness her sister had exhibited as a child had been honed to adult perfection, so that Claire could be standing right in front of an oncoming train and still insist that everything was going to be fine.

Their husbands were not attracted to the groupies because they were hotter than their wives. They were attracted to them because they were groupies. It was a hell of a lot more fun to be with somebody who thought you were perfect than it was to be with a woman who wouldn't put up with your shit.

Keep the best, forget the rest.

You could guarantee a decent cup of coffee in Betty's, but it went beyond the decent coffee and the respectable girls (and women) who had been parcelled up some time in the 1930s and freshly unwrapped this morning. It was the way that everything was exactly right and fitting. And clean.

She opened her arms to the black bat and they flew to each other, embracing in the air like long-lost souls. This is love, Ursula thought. And the practice of it makes it perfect.

What if we had a chance to do it again and again, until we finally did get it right? Wouldn't that be wonderful?

It's always surprising to me how many young women think they have to be perfect. I rarely meet a young man who doesn't think he already is.

Were there a people of gods, their government would be democratic. So perfect a government is not for men.

If there were a people consisting of gods, they would be governed democratically. So perfect a government is not suitable to men.

Perfection is the measure of heaven, and the wish to be perfect the measure of man.

That soul that can Be honest is the only perfect man.

Never, in these United States, has the brain of man conceived, or the hand of man fashioned, so perfect a thing as a clipper ship.