Perfect Quotes - Page 5

There are two kinds of perfect: The one you can never achieve, and the other, by just being yourself.

I loved him desperately, completely, and he wasn’t threatening to consume me anymore. He already had. Everything that was me was him. My heart, mind and soul all were as much a part of him as they were me.

Practice makes better and prayer makes perfect. The more we do, the easier it gets, and all the while praying perfects us in the art.

Perfection isn't necessarily found only in publicly accepted trends. Perfection is found in self.

The woman is the most perfect doll that i have dressed with delight and admiration.

She said I’m perfect“I just love the way she lies.

Dresses don't look beautiful on hangers.

We come to love not by finding a perfect person, but by learning to see an imperfect person perfectly.

Building a business is like creating a picture & striving to be picture perfect in everything you do.

From recovery to rags and rags to recovery symbolizes art - a perfect compilation of human imperfections.

Finding a soulmate is an easy adventure, but the difficult part admist the game is finding your kind of person.

The totally alive, totally conscious, and totally aware Universe takes care of itself completely. It is totally self- reliant and totally self- sufficient. It is perfect.

There comes a time when one suddenly discovers that there will never be a time for the coming of the perfect person, or believe that God sends people from heaven, so one finds a random fellow, either righteous or unrighteous, excellent or Impaired, and in no time become what God had ordained.

We must look to God for His grace and His power to perfect godly qualities in our lives.

― all you have to do is kill every citizen at birth and then, by God, you're left with the perfect ―

Your life may not be 'picture perfect' but you have it in you to make it 'your best.' There's only one chance at life and you owe it to yourself to give it all you can.

I didn't notice I was crying until a stewardess came by and gave me a tissue to blow my nose in. Her arm and wrist were slender and they formed a pretty arch, like the limb of a fruit tree, as she poked the tissue into my clenched fist. She didn't look at my eyes. It was a perfect gesture, an expression of indifference and concern, which is the most a drunk can ask for.

It might not be about perfection. Rather, it may be that that which is imperfect is that which has the most character.