Quotes About Perfection

Done is better than good.

She said: "We all spend our twenties and thirties trying so hard to be perfect, because we're so worried about what people will think of us. Then we get into our forties and fifties, and we finally start to be free, because we decide that we don't give a damn what anyone thinks of us. But you won't be completely free until you reach your sixties and seventies, when you finally realize this liberating truth—nobody was ever thinking about you, anyhow.

To my taste, the men in Rome are ridiculously, hurtfully, stupidly beautiful. More beautiful even than Roman women, to be honest. Italian men are beautiful in the same way as French women, which is to say-- no detail spared in the quest for perfection. They're like show poodles. Sometimes they look so good I want to applaud.

Kalos Kai Agathos, the singular balance of the good and the beautiful.

Embrace the creativity and don't care about the result. It's better to be a beginner till the end of the life than waiting forever to be perfect.

The image of the tragic artist who lays down his tools rather than fall short of his impeccable ideals holds no romance for me. I don't see this path as heroic. I think it's far more honorable to stay in the game - even if you're objectively losing the game - than to excuse yourself from participation because of your delicate sensibilities. But in order to stay in the game, you must let go of your fantasy of perfection.

Now, I cannot imagine where women ever got the idea that they must be perfect in order to be loved or successful. (Ha ha ha! Just kidding! I can totally imagine: We got it from every single message society has ever sent us! Thanks, all of human history!)

We all spend our twenties and thirties trying so hard to be perfect, because we're so worried about what people will think of us. Then we get into our forties and fifties, and we finally start to be free, because we decide that we don't give a damn what anyone thinks of us. But you won't be completely free until you reach your sixties and seventies, when you finally realize this liberating truth—nobody was ever thinking about you, anyhow." They

Italian men are beautiful in the same way as French women, which is to say - no detail spared in the quest for perfection.

The writer Rebecca Solnit puts it well: "So many of us believe in perfection, which ruins everything else, because the perfect is not only the enemy of the good; it's also the enemy of the realistic, the possible, and the fun.

But this is a city that gets born anew in the fresh eyes of every young person who arrives here for the first time. So that city, that place—newly created for my eyes only—will never exist again. It is preserved forever in my memory like an orchid trapped in a paperweight. That city will always be my perfect New York.

You may want your work to be perfect, in other words; I just want mine to be finished.

We don't have time for perfect. In any event, perfection is unachievable.

Your treasure - your perfection - is within you already. But to claim it, you must leave the busy commotion of the mind and abandon the desires of the ego and enter into the silence of the heart. The kundalini shakti - the supreme energy of the divine - will take you there.

So many of us believe in perfection, which ruins everything else, because the perfect is not only the enemy of the good; it's also the enemy of the realistic, the possible, and the fun.

To my mind, Celia Ray was perfection. She was New York City's very distillation—a glittering composite of sophistication and mystery. I would endure any filth or befouling, just to have access to her.

We all spend our twenties and thirties trying so hard to be perfect, because we're so worried about what people will think of us. Then we get into our forties and fifties, and we finally start to be free, because we decide that we don't give a damn what anyone thinks of us. But you won't be completely free until you reach your sixties and seventies, when you finally realize this liberating truth—nobody was ever thinking about you, anyhow.

La imagen de artista trágico que prefiere dejar la pluma antes que alcanzar sus impecables ideales no tiene nada de romántica. Elegir este camino no me parece heroico. Creo que es mucho más honesto seguir en el juego —incluso si salta a la vista que estás perdiendo— que dejar de participar debido a lo delicado de tu sensibilidad. Pero, para seguir en el juego, tienes que renunciar a tus ansias de perfección.

Everything- for no reason whatsoever- is perfect.

So many of us believe in perfection, which ruins everything else, because the perfect is not only the enemy of the good; it's also the enemy of the realistic, the possible, and the fun.

You are an idealist, which means that you are destined to be disappointed, and perhaps even wounded. You seek a gospel of benevolence and miracle, which leaves no room for the sorrows of existence. You are like William Paley, arguing that the perfection of every design in the universe is proof of God's love for us.

De los veinte a los cuarenta años nos esforzamos por ser perfectos porque nos preocupa mucho lo que pensará la gente de nosotros. Luego cumplimos los cuarenta y los cincuenta y empezamos a ser libres porque decidimos que nos importa un bledo lo que los demás piensen de nosotros. Pero no se es completamente libre hasta que se llega a los sesenta y los setenta, cuando por fin comprendes esta verdad liberadora: que nadie estaba pensando en ti».

We don't have time for perfect. In any event, perfection is unachievable:

He possessed a more pristine sense of artistic discernment, was the implication. Exposure to imperfections—even his own—injured his soul. He felt there was nobility in his choice never to write a book, if it could not be a great book.