#imperfect

The fact of storytelling hints at a fundamental human unease, hints at human imperfection. Where there is perfection there is no story to tell. ↗

— Ben Okri

#fundamental #hints #human #imperfection #perfection

Even as we enumerate their shortcomings, the rigor of raising children ourselves makes clear to us our mothers' incredible strength. We fear both. If they are not strong, who will protect us? If they are not imperfect, how can we equal them? ↗

— Anna Quindlen

#children #clear #enumerate #equal #even

We are all imperfect. We can not expect perfect government. ↗

— William Howard Taft

#government #imperfect #perfect

There is a kind of beauty in imperfection. ↗

— Conrad Hall

#imperfection #kind

The law isn't justice. It's a very imperfect mechanism. If you press exactly the right buttons and are also lucky, justice may show up in the answer. A mechanism is all the law was ever intended to be. ↗

— Raymond Chandler

#answer #buttons #ever #exactly #imperfect

God is another name for human intelligence raised above all error and imperfection, and extended to all possible truth. ↗

— William Ellery Channing

#another #error #extended #god #human

It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect. The more perfect we are the more gentle and quiet we become towards the defects of others. ↗

— Joseph Addison

#complains #defects #gentle #imperfect #imperfection

To share your weakness is to make yourself vulnerable; to make yourself vulnerable is to show your strength. ↗

— Criss Jami

#confronting #courage #honesty #humble #humility

All I have to say is - run, dive, pitch a tent... Spend hours on the phone with your best friend.... Wear bikinis. Drink tequila. Wake up in the morning happy for no good reason.... Lie in the grass, dream of your future, of your imperfect life & your imperfect marriage to your imperfect true love.... Because what else is there? Honestly, there's nothing else. Nothing else matters. ↗

— Melanie Gideon

#love #dreams

Yet, when a man stands in the midst of his own beautifications, in the midst of his own northern airs of taciturnity and reservation, and not in the vanity and shortcoming of a woman's vestures, nor adornments; he is likely to see gliding past him silent, magical creatures whose happiness and seclusion he yearns for- his own mistakes, his own wounds, his own shortcomings: and that is no meager happiness. Yet, even with this yearning, even with that yearning for truth, for innocence in expression, man almost believes that his greater self lives there amongst the shortcomings, the humiliations, and the injuries: in these quiet regions even the fiercest air, even the howling air, turns into deathly silence, and in the most palest of northern snows, where you will find the white bear, youth itself even turns into a dream of youth. How he moves over these hilltops, like an enormous moth into the sun! But what is the sun for him, when there is no such thing as warmth? ↗

— Parodties

#innocence #renewal #youth #death