Best 1434 quotes in «perfection quotes» category

For whatever it's worth, I believe we're born imperfect, and perfection, whatever that may be, is unattainable by us mere humans.

... for we perceive that this miraculous development is not the result of our own efforts: an eternal Perfection is moulding us into its own image.

From attraction and affection Cover of perfection Failure beyond texture to a painful lesson Everything that was from the start wasn't from the heart

Give me one man from among ten thousand if he is the best

God can never be perfectly present to us here below on account of our flesh. But he can be almost perfectly absent from us in extreme affliction. This is the only possibility of perfection for us on earth. That is why the Cross is our only hope.

God can turn your biggest flaws into your biggest cause.

God doesn't require perfection, he requires progression.

God isn't looking for perfection. He is seeking men and women with faith greater than fear.

Grammar is like a strive for perfection. It's useless really.

Greatness is not in taking big leaps. It's in doing the small things to perfection. The accumulation of little perfect things takes you there. Pursue Greatness.

Happy people know that all the imperfections of the world are due to the conditioning of our minds which seeks perfection in the world according to the moral and statuary laws. Unless you free yourself from the binding of the rules and laws, there will hardly be any place for happiness in your life.

Helena: Will they be happier when they can feel pain? Dr. Gall: On the contrary. But they will be technically more perfect.

He isn't the best, neither am I. But we are the best version of ourselves with each other. And that's pretty close to Perfection.

Happiness is not in perfection but it is a perception in the midst of imperfection.

He lived knowing that he had already experienced perfection; that, no doubt, was what gave him a certain aura of sadness, and a sense of flexibility.

He loved the sea for deep-seated reasons: the hardworking artist's need for repose, the desire to take shelter from the demanding diversity of phenomena in the bosom of boundless simplicity, a propensity—proscribed and diametrically opposed to his mission in life and for that very reason seductive—a propensity for the unarticulated, the immoderate, the eternal, for nothingness. To repose in perfection is the desire of all those who strive for excellence, and is not nothingness a form of perfection?

Her exceptional beauty also helps her to keep her secrets. Most people tend to think the best of those who are blessed with beauty; we have difficulty imagining that physical perfection can conceal twisted emotions or a damaged mind.

Her beauty is laced in her strength and interwoven through her flaws. She embodies perfection.

Here is a paradox: People who think imperfect are closer to perfection than their counterparts who claim that they're perfect or closer...

Hey, you know I might not be perfect! But I'm a wonderful work in progress!

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.

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?

Humans are perfectly Imperfect

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

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

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 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 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 can't wait to collapse into perfection

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

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.

I do think imperfection is underrated

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

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 it seems perfect, you're being played with.

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.

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