Best 1434 quotes in «perfection quotes» category

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    In this temporal existence, perfection is an illusion, regardless of those who believe in its concept. Perfection is devoid of any value. Perfection, after all, implies you've reached the zenith. There is no possibility or potentiality. There is no room for imagination. There is no ability to visualize a concept. Perfection is limited by its own nature, which in short, is zero.

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    I see you running all the time, running, always running. Stop running and look around, you might just find what you looking for. Don’t drown yourself trying to learn how to swim. Know when enough is enough. Don’t quit but take a break every now and then. It’s not necessary for you to have all the answers right now. It’s not necessary for you to know everything. All you are doing is developing an obsession, an addiction in trying to perfect yourself. You are hurting yourself with everything you are trying to know. Some times it’s best just to do nothing and to know nothing.

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    ...Is it an inspiring sight to see a man commit a heroic gesture, and then learn that he goes to vaudeville shows for relaxation? Or see a man who’s painted a magnificent canvas—and learn that he spends his time sleeping with every slut he meets?” “What do you want? Perfection?” “—or nothing. So, you see, I take the nothing.

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    Is it better to have something perfect that doesn't fit or something imperfect that fits?

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

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    I suppose he never gets blisters, then,” Scot murmured, then looked up and said, “And in truth, one of the reasons that I’d rather retain my code and my religion is that my gods are flawed and hypocritical. They get blisters—metaphorically. Thor wrangles with rage and Loki with jealousy. The only perfect god, Baldr, was killed for his perfection, which of course proves that pure perfection is an imperfection, or . . .” Scot hesitated, “something like that.” Even he felt that he could have summed that up better. “There’s pagan wisdom for you,” Gawain scoffed in derision. “Perfection is imperfect and imperfection is preferable. It’s circular logic.” Scot rolled his eyes, rubbing his ankle. “Paganism (as you condescendingly call my faith) is circular. Your Christianity tries to make everything into a straight line… in order for your world to make sense, everything must have a start and an end. In any case, your king is cut from the same cloth as your Christ—both are like Baldr, too good to last for long—either you are blind or he is a liar. Real people and gods struggle to be their best and fail.

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    It does not matter what religion you are, so long as your conscience guides your words and actions. We are all reflections of God means we are all reflections of his image — which is LIGHT. There is only one God and that is the cosmic heart of the universe — whatever you choose to call him or her. The heart within us is what connects us to God (the heart of the universe). This super basic concept is preached in all religions. God is TRUTH and LIGHT, and only through your conscience do you connect to him. Any person who does not use their conscience is very disconnected from God. Because again, the language of light can only be decoded by the heart.

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    I romanticized him until he was the perfect being. A soul so beautiful, but so immensely evil too.

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    It does not need to be perfect - or technically correct - to be magic

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    I think we need to develop a powerful dose of tolerance to understand each other’s humanness. None of us is perfect.

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    I think you look... delicious!" Her hand traveled further down my abdomen until she brushed my cock with her fingers. "Delicious, huh? That's a new one. I was thinking virile, or the male personification of perfection.

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    There is in all things a pattern that is part of our universe. It has symmetry, elegance, and grace - these qualities you find always in that the true artist captures. You can find it in the turning of the seasons, the way sand trails along a ridge, in the branch clusters of the creosote bush of the pattern of its leaves. We try to copy these patterns in our lives and in our society, seeking the rhythms, the dances, the forms that comfort. Yet, it is possible to see peril in the finding of ultimate perfection. It is clear that the ultimate pattern contains its own fixity. In such perfection, all things move towards death.

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    I think I need to become perfect all at once, so I keep getting overwhelmed and putting it off. I can't remember the last time that I didn't have something hanging over my head. There are usually about thirty to eighty things. Is that normal? Don't tell me. If it's not, I'm a jerk. If it is, that's super-depressing, and I know I'll just use 'this is normal' as an excuse to procrastinate even more.

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    I thought about how grim I felt since leaving the Navajo Nation, and I tried to imagine my perfect life. Surely it wasn't this. How could perfection include loneliness and longing, filth and exhaustion, whispers of despair? It seemed there were countless other potential versions of this life that'd be so much better. I could spend hours fantasizing about them, wondering what that perfection might look like someday, wishing it would come soon. I could spend my entire life that way wondering, wishing. It'd be so easy. It was in fact, the inevitable result of believing that perfection was anything other than what already was. 'This minute that comes to me over the past decillions," Whitman wrote, "There is no better than it and now."If I couldn't find perfection in this, then what made me think I'd be able to find it tomorrow, next month or two decades from now? Peace had to be an inner perspective, not a specific and temperamental set of external conditions. The fire cackled, lighting up Jean-Sébastien and Cristelle in hues of yellow and orange, and I realized that this was my perfect life. It had to be.

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    It is good to be imperfect so that we retain our joy to work hard to rise to perfection!

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    It is important to understand where to draw a line between progress and perfection.

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    It is common to come across a perfectionist at work. Life is not that tough if you have a perfectionist sub-ordinate; life is a bit tough when you have a perfectionist peer; life is toughest when you have a perfectionist supervisor!

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    It is better to fail at perfection than it is to succeed at mediocrity.

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    It is perhaps worth noticing that we have arrived 'on the scene' at a fairly early date. By this I mean that the time scale that it has taken nature to create us is of the same order of magnitude as the age of the universe. The universe is about 10-15 billion years old, and the Earth about 4.5 billion years old. Life is supposed to have begun on Earth about 3 billion years ago. It would not have been possible to evolve life, because of the hostile conditions, in the first few billion years after the big bang. Thus we have been created almost as soon as the universe was in a position to create us. It is an interesting question how long the universe will continue to create entirely new forms of life, assuming that it is open.

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    It is true that a mathematician who is not somewhat of a poet, will never be a perfect mathematician.

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    It might come a time to not follow your passion, so to speak, although it must be prioritized. It may be the case that your passion will serve as the medic, your peace of mind, alongside a higher calling, with your higher calling being the point man.

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    It must be really difficult to be normal.

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    I tried to make my life colorful with Red, Green and Blue....... ohh god... my perfection in blending made it white !!!

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    It's an imperfect world, so you fit in perfectly.

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    It's never easy when you're constantly looking to become more.

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    It seems odd that as far as I know nobody has yet been murdered for having too perfect a character! And yet perfection is undoubtedly an irritating thing!

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    It seemed he was the perfect lover, at least for the moment. He did not live where you lived. He did not see you often enough, or for long enough, for you to grow bored, or to feel afraid that you were not feeling love---or worse, that you were. The perfection had a cost, which is that he was not in any true sense a real person. He was a coat you bought off the rack, an unsuperlative fashion statement.

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    It was examinations (in school) that drove my wits away, as all emergencies do. Being expected to measure up was paralysing. It was never that Mother wanted me to beat my classmates in grades, what she wanted was for me to have my answers right. It was unclouded perfection I was up against.

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    It’s no secret that we all live within a damning illusion called denial. We are doomed by our own far-reaching imaginations and beliefs that extend into a glorified version of eternity. How are we to live sanely on the earth, with our heads in the clouds, when we are so far from being giants? How are we to claim higher ideals, when God is absent from the conversations in our minds? There can be no going back, once we’ve believed in perfection. We are slain by the stories we were taught as children, stories about Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny and a God who cares. We pass these heirlooms to our children with the same fervor with which they were delivered, never allowing ourselves to doubt their authenticity or value. I wondered what the view held outside the proverbial slaughterhouse. For a spiritually awakened person, a good God seems the only reasonable answer. If there’s no eternal good, then what would be the use of life? Man lays the tracks of good and evil before the train of his evolution, moving onward into places he barely understands

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    It was lonely to be so perfect in all respects.

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    It's not perfection that makes you beautiful, It's your imperfections

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    I used to believe that I could do everything and be everywhere. I could work longer hours, make the dead line, cook delicious meals, play with the kids, get enough sleep, focus on my health. And I can absolutely can do all these things. But not at the same time. Not on the same day. Realizing that was a delightful freedom. Letting go of that notion of constant balance was releasing a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. You mean I don't have to be everything to everyone all the time? I don't have to keep all the balls in the air all the time? I can change balls? I can choose different balls? Balance is finding the correct weight for every area of life and understanding that the correctness of that weight will change over time. Balance is fluid and flexible. Balance is alive and aware. Balance is intention. This idea of balance- a correctness rather than an equalness has taught me some of the most important lessons of my life. - I can not be everything to everyone - I can not be in all places at once. - Saying yes to one thing means saying no to another. - Saying no to one thing means I can say yes to another. - Perfection doesn't exist. Let it go. - I can not change people - I have to stop comparing myself to others. They aren't me. I'm not them. - I will never finish the laundry - I can't control everything - Bad things happen to good people and vice versa. - My kids aren't me. - Being all in a moment means I'm all out of another. - Envy and jealousy are different things. - Achievements never look like I thought they were going to. - Being kind to others is addictive. - I can't always be self- possessed. - Sometimes I need a cheerleader. - I like being part of a community. - Asking for help is hard, but necessary. Embrace the wobbly balance.

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    It was perfect, but perfection is terrifying.

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    I’ve been trying to write the perfect book since high school. e results are in a large Rubbermaid tub in my closet. I don’t know what all is in there, but I do know that the tub makes a great stepping stool when I want to organize my socks on the top shelf of my closet.

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    I’ve been the queen of symmetry and everything had to be in identical balance, no matter how you looked at it. But I’ve realized that sometimes things can be a little different, almost vastly different, yet make perfect sense when they are brought together. Sometimes differences are what make things symmetrical.

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    I used to see the flaw in every diamond. Now stones astound me with their perfection.

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    I've just come to my room, Livy darling, I guess this was the memorable night of my life. By George, I never was so stirred since I was born. I heard four speeches which I can never forget... one by that splendid old soul, Col. Bob Ingersoll, — oh, it was just the supremest combination of English words that was ever put together since the world began... How handsome he looked, as he stood on that table, in the midst of those 500 shouting men, and poured the molten silver from his lips! What an organ is human speech when it is played by a master! How pale those speeches are in print, but how radiant, how full of color, how blinding they were in the delivery! It was a great night, a memorable night. I doubt if America has seen anything quite equal to it. I am well satisfied I shall not live to see its equal again... Bob Ingersoll’s music will sing through my memory always as the divinest that ever enchanted my ears. And I shall always see him, as he stood that night on a dinner-table, under the flash of lights and banners, in the midst of seven hundred frantic shouters, the most beautiful human creature that ever lived... You should have seen that vast house rise to its feet; you should have heard the hurricane that followed. That's the only test! People might shout, clap their hands, stamp, wave their napkins, but none but the master can make them get up on their feet. {Twain's letter to his wife, Livy, about friend Robert Ingersoll's incredible speech at 'The Grand Banquet', considered to be one of the greatest oratory performances of all time}

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    I want the freedom to mess up,” I say. Just once, I want to be the one who’s allowed to screw up. I want the freedom to choose. Right now, I have no choice. I have to be this way. But one day, I’ll be free. I’ll be be able to live my life without having to be perfect. I’ll be able to do anything I want - or nothing at all. I’ll wander around aimlessly. I’ll make mistakes. I won’t worry about being safe, being perfect.

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    I’ve watched you for a very long time now. And in this time, I’ve come to discover just as I first suspected. We are perfect for one another.

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    I wanted to reject it all because I was sick of being perfect. I was so bored with normality and dreams of poster boys and tabloid covers.

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    i was told i was conceited today.... but being conceited would imply that i see my self as being absolutely perfect.... but come on lets be real ........ EVERYONE KNOWS IM PERFECT.

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    I went to my dresser, turned the lamp off, and crawled into bed. I was taking a chance but I couldn't help slipping in behind Tweet and draping my arm around her waist. She placed her hand on top of mine and squeezed it slightly. I buried my nose in her dark hair, breathing in the scent of raspberry and vanilla. This was were we belonged.

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    I wear a pair of wings Full of flaws and imperfections But they are still beautiful enough to spread them and fly Feeling so perfectly unflawed …

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    I will hold my self to a standard of grace which is Christ's gift, not perfection which is Satan's trap.

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    Live a life that you do not need to take a vacation from. Live in a way that makes yearly resolutions unnecessary. Make the kind of choices that leave you Happy and Healthy... where all of your needs are satisfied. Live a life where your only ‘wants’ are for others to feel as good as you do.

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    Looking back, I realized that we were being raised to be schizophrenic; an appearance of perfection was more important than genuine feelings

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    Love is not all about loving everything perfect, it is when someones corrosive nature is the only thing that glues you to them which you wished it were never there.

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    Maybe it's not just about finding the perfect friend, partner, or tribe, but finding the perfection in those you've already found.

    • perfection quotes
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    May god embrace The mess in your head The chaos in your head And the flames in your eyes. For you were never meant to Be loved in pieces Neither chained Or even understood. You are a piece of art And a piece of art is only meant to be admired, Desired And kept away from anyone or anything that may mess with such kind of magic...

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    I wasn’t as untrusting. I had faith in the goodness of people, the perfection of love. What happened? Everything ends. And it’s how they end that leaves the lasting effect.