Best 353 quotes in «imperfection quotes» category

Most human suffering is man-made.

my inpefections have made me this inperfect human that im now ...im happy about it some how i think i have reach perfection in this most inperfect way .

My flaws and imperfections make me perfectly incomplete.

Never wait to be perfect, if you have fear of it then think everyone is imperfect and you are no exception. Imperfection is beauty, it means you have something to improve on.

Nothing is perfect unless imperfection is refused to be noticed.

No one is perfect and we all make mistakes, but not all of us admit to mistakes made.

No one is perfect, we all have flaws, we do mistakes, we can't be perfect but we can be good, accept your imperfection, you'll feel peace...

Oh my soul, be prepared for the coming of the Stranger. Be prepared for him who knows how to ask questions. There is one who remembers the way to your door: Life you may evade, but Death you shall not. You shall not deny the Stranger. They constantly try to escape From the darkness outside and within By dreaming of systems so perfect that no one will need to be good. But the man that is shall shadow The man that pretends to be.

Oftentimes people expect Christians to be perfect but the reality is...Spiritual perfection is imperfection! God then does His best work.

Our imperfections are what create authentic connections with one another.

ONE BUT MANY One God, many faces. One family, many races. One truth, many paths. One heart, many complexions. One light, many reflections. One world, many imperfections. ONE. We are all one, But many.

One of the most liberating things a person can do is to admit that he or she is human and is flawed.

Our perfection is found in our imperfection.

Perfection is born of imperfection.

Out here, we let ourselves be imperfect. We let ourselves have the room to make mistakes—sometimes tragic mistakes—then we allow ourselves forgiveness. Within that forgiveness, we try to be better than what we were.

People, generally, are equally insecure. They just show it (or hide it) differently.

People like me don't work towards perfection in an imperfect world. We celebrate imperfection

Perfection can be a mask for imperfection.

Perfection is ordinary; imperfection is beauty.

Perfect couples don't exist, but there is always someone who is perfect for you. Akash ran to meet his imperfectly perfect love Aleesha

Perfection can mask imperfection.

Perfect people with imperfect life. Imperfect people with perfect life.

Perfect worlds do not exist. There are only the funny, strange, weeping, singing, truncated, and imperfect universes created by the gods of paintbrush and musical instruments, the gods who infuse their creations with their own blood, their own soul. When he looks at these worlds, the true Lord of Hosts, the creator of the universe, probably cannot help but smile mockingly

Perhaps as writers, we too should embrace the concept of wabi-sabi:

Perhaps, that is the way of friends, to love one another for their imperfections, not despite them.

Self-love is not the process of ignoring your flaws. Self-love is expanding your awareness to include your flaws and your strengths.

Practice doesn't make perfect. Practice reduces the imperfection.

Primary purposes of a mirror: (1) To help civilized men realize their imperfections, and, (2) To help the imperfect hide their imperfections.

Self-love is not the process of ignoring things, paying attention to fewer flaws or forcing yourself to look away from the parts of you that you perceive as ugly or unwanted. Self-love is the process of expanding your awareness, of seeing those flaws and imperfections alongside the incredible potential of the universe flowing within you, alongside the eternal truth of life flowing within your veins in each second, alongside the flickers of creativity and opportunity present within each moment of your existence. Like this, the imperfections persist, but only as lovable quirks, like a bad doorknob on the front door of a cottage in paradise, like a few thorns on a beautiful rose, like a cloud in a sunset. Like this, what was once unwanted becomes essential, memorable, humbling.

No matter how cleverly we disguise our anxieties they bear witness to the imperfect nature of the human heart. To be is to become. To become is not to be. We are a work-in-progress, incomplete, imperfect, unrealised, and by virtue of temporal actions, temporary - a verb more than a noun, an inner quest and an outward odyssey framed by metaphors, like Escher's "Print Gallery"; we make the endless journey round the pictures, retracing our steps in forgetfulness, avoiding but mindful of the space where there are no pictures, where there is no gallery, where there is nothing at all. And like flies in a fly bottle, trapped by a failure of vision, we go round and round and round the moebius loop of a print gallery of our own making, a picture inside a picture inside a picture, forever.

Rogers would most likely be among the first to remind us that he was not "all things to all people" (1 Cor. 9:22). He was just himself, with all his strengths and weaknesses, all his advantages and limitations, and he was that way for reasons unique to his own personal history, many of which we will never know. But perhaps we would do well, when pinpointing his shortcomings, to recall that in his own prayer life Rogers often sought divine guidance and wisdom—and especially forgiveness for those times he fell short of unconditional love.

She couldn't get that a wanted a car that was a little broken. When something starts out perfect, it usually lets me down.

The best relationship is not one that brings together perfect partners, but rather one in which the partners learn to live with the differences, imperfections and objections of one another, and seek to appreciate the good qualities that make this relationship worth building on in order to survive better together.

She had accomplished great things despite imperfection.

She was reading Francis Godwin's Man in the Moone--its man was borne into space in a carriage drawn by swans--when she heard the sound of wheels upon the gravel. Two boxes from Martin & Allestyre were set down on the drive. 'My modest closet plays,' she said. She nearly ran down the stairs--for the recovery of her wayward crates that spring and the preparation of her plays for publication had rekindled inside Margaret a flame she'd feared had gone out. ... But now, in turning the pages, she grew concerned and then incensed: 'reins' where she had written 'veins,' 'exterior' when she had clearly meant 'interior.' The sun went down. The room grew dim. ... 'Before the printer ruined it,' she cried, 'my book was good!' 'Could it be,' he asked, soaking his bread in {lamb's} blood, 'that you were yourself the cause of this misfortune?

Some of the most amazing people in the world were not perfect; they were scarred by suffering, hardships, losses and imperfections.

Sometimes our inability to be Christlike happens because... we don't care. But sometimes it happens because we are naïve about our own hidden darkness.

Thank God for all of your short comings because it gives the people who don’t belong in your life something to hang their insecurities on as they drift away in a cloud of delusional perfection.

She hasn’t got it all figured out...far from it, in fact. But she loves God and she loves to dance…and she’s her own “Better Half.” The bravest woman I know? She is the reason I do what I do. She is The Single Woman. She’s me…and she’s you.

she was completely whole and yet never fully complete

Sometimes confidence is worn like a mask to shield people from seeing insecurities.

The closest thing to perfection is imperfection

The depths of her thoughts will have you never wanting to surface for air...

The enemy of my soul didn't want me painting that day. To create meant that I would look a little bit like my Creator. To overcome the terrifying angst of the blank canvas meant I would forever have more compassion for other artists. You better believe as I placed the first blue and gray strokes onto the white emptiness before me, the "not good enough" statement was pulsing through my head in almost deafening tones... This parlaying lie is one of his favorite tactics to keep you disillusioned by disappointments. Walls go up, emotions run high, we get guarded, defensive, demotivated, and paralyzed by the endless ways we feel doomed to fail. This is when we quit. This is when we settle for the ease of facebook.... This is when we get a job to simply make money instead of pursuing our calling to make a difference. This is when we put the paintbrush down and don't even try. So there I was. Standing before my painted blue boat, making a choice of which voice to listen to. I'm convinced God was smiling. Pleased. Asking me to find delight in what is right. Wanting me to have compassion for myself by focusing on that part of my painting that expressed something beautiful. To just be eager to give that beauty to whoever dared to look at my boat. To create to love others. Not to beg them for validation. But the enemy was perverting all that. Perfection mocked my boat. The bow was too high, the details too elementary, the reflection on the water too abrupt, and the back of the boat too off-center. Disappointment demanded I hyper-focused on what didn't look quite right. It was my choice which narrative to hold on to: "Not good enough" or "Find delight in what is right." Each perspective swirled, begging me to declare it as truth. I was struggling to make peace with my painting creation, because I was struggling to make make peace with myself as God's creation. Anytime we feel not good enough we deny the powerful truth that we are a glorious work of God in progress. We are imperfect because we are unfinished. So, as unfinished creations, of course everything we attempt will have imperfections. Everything we accomplish will have imperfections. And that's when it hit me: I expect a perfection in me and in others that not even God Himself expects. If God is patient with the process, why can't I be? How many times have I let imperfections cause me to be too hard on myself and too harsh with others? I force myself to send a picture of my boat to at least 20 friends. I was determined to not not be held back by the enemy's accusations that my artwork wasn't good enough to be considered "real art". This wasn't for validation but rather confirmation that I could see the imperfections in my painting but not deem it worthless. I could see the imperfections in me and not deem myself worthless. It was an act of self-compassion. I now knew to stand before each painting with nothing but love, amazement, and delight. I refused to demand anything more from the artist. I just wanted to show up for every single piece she was so brave to put on display.. Might I just be courageous enough to stand before her work and require myself to find everything about it I love? Release my clenched fist and pouty disappointments, and trade my "live up" mentality for a "show up" one? It is so much more freeing to simply show up and be a finder of the good. Break from the secret disappointments. Let my brain venture down the tiny little opening of love.. And I realized what makes paintings so delightful. It's there imperfections. That's what makes it art. It's been touched by a human. It's been created by someone whose hands sweat and who can't possibly transfer divine perfection from what her eyes see to what her fingertips can create. It will be flawed.

The master in us all lives behind the masks and roles and wounds and beliefs. It calls us to live deep, full, radical lives. It asks us not to wait until we are told by anyone that we have arrived. It invites us forward, across the line of fear and unworthiness, to experience mastery in this moment--as much as we can right now. To learn from stumbling. To rise again and keep walking until we no longer notice our feet in their effortless dance. But mostly not to wait until some distant, perfect someday. Mastery is now.

The idea of practicing love is deeply appealing to me, because built right in is an acceptance of imperfection. There is an acknowledgment to myself that I am going to mess this up, an understanding that there is room to grow. Each of my failures just affirms the truth that we are all starting over and rising again.

The masculine ideal of perfection creates a hyper-sensitivity to any nuance of imperfection. Any man who commits his life to the perfectionistic ideal of masculinity is going to feel like a failure. The people around him will feel abused and oppressed by him. The only way to do things is his way, the right way, the ideal way. Every man who succeeds at this game will wind up in the same place: Alone in his victory. At the top of the pyramid there’s no room for anyone else.

The imperfection became a mark of distinction about their home. Something visitors noticed, the first family anecdote that was told.

The Jews have made him [Yahweh] the assassin of the human species, to make room for the religion of the Jews. The Christians have made him the murderer of himself, and the founder of a new religion to supersede and expel the Jewish religion. And to find pretence and admission for these things, they must have supposed his power or his wisdom imperfect, or his will changeable; and the changeableness of the will is the imperfection of the judgement.

...the prepared meal is far more appetizing that its raw beginnings there’s a lot of fight that goes into the happy ending