The first thing anybody tells you about this business is to say what makes you unique and different, but I couldn’t and the very idea of it never sat well with me and after much deliberation, I finally realized why. Because, I’m not unique or dif...
You’ve got to live right, too. It’s the way you live that predisposes you to avoid the traps and see the right facts. You want to know how to paint a perfect painting? It’s easy. Make yourself perfect and then just paint naturally. That’s the...
Before Charlotte could utter a syllable, Tristan picked up her gloved hand and kissed her lightly on the knuckles. “Good day, Charlotte,” he said. “Good day,” she answered. She turned to bid farewell to Lady Rosalind, but she seemed to have d...
Make no mistake,' He says, 'if you let me, I will make you perfect. The moment you put yourself in My hands, that is what you are in for. Nothing less, or other, than that. You have free will, and if you choose, you can push Me away. But if you do no...
You may not be her first, her last, or her only. She loved before she may love again. But if she loves you now, what else matters? She's not perfect—you aren't either, and the two of you may never be perfect together but if she can make you laugh, ...
Jesse: You're just like the little girls and everybody else. You wanna live inside some fairy tale. I'm just trying to make things better. I tell you that I love you unconditionally, I tell you that you're beautiful, I tell you that your ass looks gr...
Yet man will never be perfect until he learns to create and destroy; he does know how to destroy, and that is half the battle.
I'm going to undress you slowly so I can take in every inch of your perfect body. Holy shit, he played dirty.
My life hasn't been perfect, yet I've never wasted my time envying anyone else. If something wasn't the best it could be - I made it better.
In the end, perfection is just a concept - an impossibility we use to torture ourselves and that contradicts nature.
We have all been expelled from the Garden, but the ones who suffer most in exile are those who are still permitted to dream of perfection.
His body was perfect. His parents were loaded. His grades were terrible. He was a high school girl’s dream come true.
Her rebirth stood in her mind with the clarity of a perfect diamond, the light scattering the rainbows through her body.
And they were quiet but their blood and nerves and butterflies were not—they were rampantly alive, rushing and thrumming in a wild and perfect melody, matched note for note.
Nonsense! I have merely come to terms with the fact that I am perfect, and I have decided life must go on, and I must learn to live with myself...
You're perfect. To me you are. You always will be. When you're small you think that about your parents. When you're old, you think that about your kids. You'll see.
Like a butterfly stuck in a chrysalis, waiting for the perfect moment, I was waiting for the day I could burst forth and fly away and find my home.
You think he’s perfect and he’s safe and, in your head, he can do anything... but he can’t save you, Sara... and I can’t save you either.
Was it good to treasure the memory of a few perfect hours together? Or would I have been better off never meeting him?
The silence, she thought, was remarkable: a perfect, shimmering thing, and fragile. Like glass, if it shattered, it would never come back together again.
No one is perfect. We all need a Savior. The more honest we become about our flaws, the more we'll reach out for the grace and love of Jesus.
