Quotes About Imperfection

I am imperfect and proud of it. No one is perfect.

In any case, 'Nier: Automata' is not a perfect game. But I am proud of everything in it.

So I'm half deaf - and dyslexic. How about that? Nobody's perfect, and I'm proud of my defects.

he found what a grotesque thing a rose is and how raw the sunlight was upon the scarcely created grass.

the cracked plate has to be retained in the pantry, has to be kept in service as a household necessity. It can never be warmed on the stove nor shuffled with the other plates in the dishpan; it will not be brought out for company but it will do to hold crackers late at night or to go into the ice-box with the left overs.

we are all flawed, fragile, cast-off china, collecting dust in the antique store that is life. The trick is finding someone who sees our worth despite the tiny, hairline cracks.

Japanese for simplicity and taking pleasure in imperfections

But I am not perfect in my way of putting things Because I lack the divine simplicity Of being only what I appear to be.

Toda a compreensão é imperfeita porque, quanto mais se expande, em maiores fronteiras confina com o incompreensível que a cerca.

Adoramos a perfeição, porque não a podemos ter; repugná-la-íamos, se a tivéssemos. O perfeito é desumano, porque o humano é imperfeito.

My self-critical mind allows me to see only the defects and faults in my own work, and so I only have the courage to write snippets and snatches, brief notes on the theme of nonexistence, and yet even the little I write is imperfect.

However, when you're about to write something, knowing beforehand that it's sure to be imperfect, a failure, that is the most spiritually tormenting and humiliating of feelings. I not only feel that the lines I write are unsatisfactory, I know that I will find any lines I write in the future equally unsatisfactory

Sappiamo bene che ogni opera è necessariamente imperfetta, e che la meno sicura delle nostre contemplazioni estetiche sarà quella di cui scriviamo. Ma tutto è imperfetto, non c'è tramonto così bello da non poterlo essere di più, o brezza lieve che invita al sonno che non possa favorire un sonno ancor più sereno.

But thank God there's imperfection in the World, Since imperfection is a thing, And the existence of mistaken People is original, And the existence of sick People makes the world interesting. If there were no imperfection, there would be one less thing, And there should be many Things, So that we will have a lot to see and hear For as long as Our eys and ears remain open...

Everything comes from humanity and humanity is always the same — changeable but incapable of perfection, vacillating but incapable of progress.

The creation of something complete and whole, be it good or bad – and if it's never entirely good, it's very often not all bad – yes, the creation of something complete seems to stir in me above all a feeling of envy. A completed thing is like a child; although imperfect like everything human, it belongs to us like our own children.

We're well aware that every creative work is imperfect and that our most dubious aesthetic contemplation will be the one whose object is what we write. But everything is imperfect. There's no sunset so lovely it couldn't be yet lovelier, no gentle breeze bringing us sleep that couldn't bring yet sounder sleep.

Todo cuanto hacemos, en el arte o en la vida, es la copia imperfecta de lo que hemos pensado hacer.

Everything we do, in art or in life, is the imperfect copy of what we thought of doing.

Everything we do, in art and life, is the imperfect copy of what we intended.

And I who am saying all this – why am I writing this book? Because I realize it's imperfect. Dreamed, it would be perfection; written, it becomes imperfect; that's why I'm writing it. And above all else, because I advocate uselessness, absurdity, – I write this book to lie to myself, to be unfaithful to my own theory.

Mas imperfeito é tudo, nem há poente tão belo que o não pudesse ser mais, ou brisa leve que nos dê sono que não pudesse dar-nos um sono mais calmo ainda.

We worship perfection, because we cannot have it; and we would loathe it if we did. Perfection is inhuman, because to be human is to be imperfect.

Fiction is about everything human and we are made out of dust, and if you scorn getting yourself dusty, then you shouldn't try to write fiction. It's not a grand enough job for you.