Best 1434 quotes in «perfection quotes» category

How rude of me, we haven’t even introduced ourselves. We’re the Andersons. I’m Evan, the lovely size-zero lass in the floppy sun hat is my wife Amy, and these are our best friends/children, Evan and Amy Jr. As you can see, we’re very fit and active. You know what our family’s average percentage of body fat is? Three. Yes, really. We got it tested last year when we all became organ donors. You may have noticed that I’m carrying Amy on my back. We do that a lot. At least once a day, and not just when we’re in fields like this; we do it on beaches and in urban environments as well. That’s what happens when your love is deep and playful like ours. You should also know that we also dab frosting on each other’s noses every single time we eat cupcakes, which is both mischievous and very us. Do you guys even eat cupcakes?

How very lovable her face was to him. Yet there was nothing ethereal about it; all was real vitality, real warmth, real incarnation. And it was in her mouth that this culminated. Eyes almost as deep and speaking he had seen before, and cheeks perhaps as fair; brows as arched, a chin and throat almost as shapely; her mouth he had seen nothing to equal on the face of the earth. To a young man with the least fire in him that little upward lift in the middle of her red top lip was distracting, infatuating, maddening. He had never before seen a woman’s lips and teeth which forced upon his mind with such persistent iteration the old Elizabethan simile of roses filled with snow. Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them off-hand. But no — they were not perfect. And it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.

Human inventions march from the complex to the simple, and simplicity is always perfection.

Hu-man, Hu-mility, Hu-manity, is a title of nobility of the Perfected One, one who has knowledge of its self, and living its essence

Humans are perfectly Imperfect

I am a person. I am not always happy 24 hours a day, 7 days a week; sometimes I feel sad, sometimes I feel angry. Sometimes I see brokenness in the world and I feel like I'm dying inside because I want to fix it! I am a person. I am not continuously grateful for everything and everyone 100% of the time. Because sometimes, I don't feel grateful! Sometimes I feel betrayed, other times I feel deceived. Because I am a person. And I am tired of the schools of thought and the judgmental eyes that offer up their plates of useless opinion when I am not 100% floating up there in false pretenses of perfection. I do not want to be false. I want to be a person. And I want to feel and I want to think, and no, not everything in life is something to be grateful for; and no, not everything in the world is something to be happy about. I am a person. My face can do a lot of things aside from smiling. My face can look peaceful, it can look thoughtful, it can look Divine. I can frown and sometimes my eyebrows are scrunched up in the middle; that's because I'm thinking! I am a person. A person that is so much more than what popular opinion expects is the definition of perfection. But I AM perfect. I am perfect the very way that I am. And I would never want to be only what popular thought would expect of me. I am so much more than that.

I am deeply convinced that perfection lies in excess of thoughts and excess of problems. These will devour me and break me down into indivisible particles. And in the belly of a monster where I am laid in the narrowest binary of doing or not-doing, being or not-being, I let my instinct to find the perfect answer.

I am just a guy, doing my best to be the best person I can be. And, every once in a while, I fuck up the moment I’m in. Please. Get over it. Get over yourselves. Get over this weird need to be morally superior to me and to the other people in this world. And let me be imperfect. I assure you, my imperfections drive me to improve. Let me love myself. I assure you, loving myself despite my faults will only make me a better person. Let me be my own judge. I assure you, I’ll be more fair and just than you ever will. Let me be the owner of my own intentions. I assure you, there isn’t another soul on earth who knows what my real intentions are but me. Love and acceptance despite ongoing and glaring imperfection is all I’ve ever tried to attain with this blog. For me. For you. For everyone. And I’ll never stop.

I am THAT, I AM! Why should I be perfect.. when I'm already imperfectly perfect. And that's what is unique and perfect about me. I love that I am that I love that I am!

I can feel the limits of what humans are capable of - that a certain type of perfection can only be realised through a limitless accumulation of the imperfect.

I asked if Tyler was an artist. Tyler shrugged...What Tyler had created was the shadow of a giant hand. . . he said how at exactly four-thirty the hand was perfect. The giant shadow hand was perfect for one minute, and for one perfect minute Tyler sat in the palm of a perfection he'd created himself. One minute was enough, Tyler said, a person had to work hard for it, but a minute of perfection was worth the effort. A moment was the most you could ever expect from perfection.

I bet you have girls hanging all over you. Dozens would probably kill to be in my spot and here I am, allergic to your bread.” I looked up. “Why? Because of my near godlike perfection?

I dare you to say I’m not ugly.

I collected pictures and I drew pictures and I looked at the pictures by myself. And because no one else ever saw them, the pictures were perfect and true. They were alive.

I covered the scar with concealer every day because I wanted my body to be a flawless figurine, but this blemish would be with me forever.

I cursed myself. For once, heaven had sent me "Beauty" in its most perfected form and I abandoned it. She might not have been a girl after all but an angel: a force to guide me on this hazardous path of life I hurry down... How can life be hazardous if it can only end in death?

...I deliberately spilled the black ink of despair because my perfect soul was a stained glass illusion - can you understand that?...

I can't wait to collapse into perfection

If beauty is relative, then any and everything when compared to the beauty of God is absolutely hideous.

I do think imperfection is underrated

I don't know where this pressure came from. I can't blame my parents because it has always felt internal. Like any other parent, my mother celebrated the A grades and the less-than-A grades she felt there was no need to tell anybody about. But not acknowledging the effort that ended in a less than perfect result impacted me as a child. If I didn't win, then we wouldn't tell anyone that I had even competed to save us the embarrassment of acknowledging that someone else was better. Keeping the secret made me think that losing was something to be ashamed of, and that unless I was sure I was going to be the champion there was no point in trying. And there was certainly no point to just having fun.

If bees only gathered nectar from perfect flowers, they wouldn’t be able to make even a single drop of honey.

If believed that life is a hologram; find the awe in its design. If believed that life is strange; find the awe in its oddity. If believed that life is fun; find the awe in its joys. If believed that life is hard; find the awe in its successes. If believed that life is beautiful; find the awe in its perfection. Life is always about finding the awe, for that gives one power to create a wonderful life.

If everything was perfect in your life won't it be a predictable one. Life is unpredictable chaotic and madness but that's what makes life interesting won't you agree?

If I can do things right, I don't see why everyone else can't.

If I could wish for my life to be perfect, it would be tempting; but I would have to decline, for life would no longer teach me anything.

If I invite God into my life, I am and always will be good enough.

I finally gave in today. Admitting that I haven't been able to do it alone, that's defeat right? But do a couple pills change why I'm here? Will my spirit be altered? Do my passions change? Will I lose hope either way? My madness is what makes me. It’s my most unique beauty.

If it seems perfect, you're being played with.

If I were God, If I were given the rusted keys to this kingdom, Trust me, I wouldn’t leave anything as it is. Except you.

If you are truly convinced that there is some solution to all human problems, that one can conceive an ideal society which men can reach if only they do what is necessary to attain it, then you and your followers must believe that no price can be too high to pay in order to open the gates of such a paradise. Only the stupid and malevolent will resist once certain simple truths are put to them. Those who resist must be persuaded; if they cannot be persuaded, laws must be passed to restrain them; if that does not work, then coercion, if need be violence, will inevitably have to be used—if necessary, terror, slaughter.

If religion has set up the proposition that we are sinners altogether, I set over against it the other: we are perfect altogether! For we are, every moment, all that we can be; and we never need be more.

If we would aim at perfection in any thing, simplicity must not be overlooked.

If you are the one perfect person in an imperfect world, you are flawed.

If you think that growth means perfection, let me assure you, it does not! You do not need to be perfect; instead, strive to be honest, admit to failures, learn to ask for and to give forgiveness, love and allow yourself to be loved. Accept and even celebrate differences in others; their “No Excuses” mindsets may look and function a bit differently than yours, but that is okay!

If you're not aiming at perfection, you're not trying hard enough.

If you understand that you are not just your appearance or your physical body, you will be better equipped to handle negative feelings or imperfection regarding your outward appearance

If you wait for things to be perfect, you walk away with NOTHING. Just jump in and get started.

I know he wasn’t perfect… But he did the best impression of it I’ve ever seen.

I had a dream that I was perfect…I woke up and was still perfect. Aw.

I have read the bible, seen its errors and perfections, but the bits of lie contained therein has contaminated the truth.

I had no confidence in myself. I was a fraud. Who was I to pick up a pen and expect anything good to come from it? I expected perfection as soon as the pencil hit the paper, and since that's impossible, I couldn't get myself to start. Then I felt guilty about not starting which made me want to start even less.

I learned that, while rejection is the name of the game, I’m always going to be exactly what someone is looking for, eventually. Whether it is looks or personality, be it in the professional world or the dating world, what others have over me is irrelevant, because there’s always someone out there looking for an exact type of someone – a someone that I can completely fulfill. I’m not going to be everyone’s ideal, so focusing on the times I get passed over – be it the modeling industry or in real life – is a colossal waste of time.

I like her," Brad said, chuckling. "For a Red Sox tee shirt wearing woman I guess she's okay," Jason grumbled. "Does no one care that she just manhandled me?" Trevor demanded, facing the men who should be properly outraged on his behalf. Jason snorted. "A s long as she brings me food she can bitch slap you and call you spanky." Trevor narrowed his eyes on the men who dared laugh at his pain. Betraying bastards.

I likened her to the slender PSYCHÉ and judged that the perfection of her face ennobled everything unclean around her: The dusty hems of her bunched-up skirt, the worn straps of her nightshirt; the blackened soles of her bare feet [...] All this and the pungent air! Ô this night, sweet pungent night! "HÉBÉ" may come but a season. But this girl's season would know a hot spring and an Indian summer.

I like what I do. Some writers have said in print that they hated writing and it was just a chore and a burden. I certainly don't feel that way about it. Sometimes it's difficult. You know, you always have this image of the perfect thing which you can never achieve, but which you never stop trying to achieve. But I think ... that's your signpost and your guide. You'll never get there, but without it you won't get anywhere. [Interview with Oprah Winfrey, June 5, 2007]

I'm afraid it will never be perfect again. I am indelibly stained. Forever redefined, but blurred around the edges.

I loved everything to anything to everyone who surrounded him. He was perfect. A delusion with a sweet melancholy taste. He was crazy, but he was my crazy and inside, everything felt right.

I may not be perfect but I am as close as you will get to heaven...

I mean, it’s AWESOME, but it’s also a little bit “New York awe­some,” you know? How do I explain how I felt about it? I guess ... well ... in New York City people spend ten years making something amazing happen, something that captures the essence of an idea so perfectly that sud­denly the world becomes ten times clearer. It’s beautiful and it’s powerful and someone devoted a huge piece of their life to it. The local news does a story about it and everyone goes “Neat!” and then tomorrow we forget about it in favor of some other ABSOLUTELY PERFECT AND REMARKABLE THING. That doesn’t make those things un­wonderful or not unique ... It’s just that there are a lot of people doing a lot of amazing things, so eventually you get a little jaded.