The unqualified truth is, that when I loved Estella with the love of a man, I loved her simply because I found her irresistible. Once for all; I knew to my sorrow, often and often, if not always, that I loved her against reason, against promise, against peace, against hope, against happiness, against all discouragement that could be. Once for all; I love her none the less because I knew it, and it had no more influence in restraining me, than if I had devoutly believed her to be human perfection.

The indefatigable pursuit of an unattainable Perfection, even though it consist in nothing more than the pounding of an old piano, alone gives a meaning to our life on this unavailing star.

In anything at all, perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add, but when there is no longer anything to take away.

Perfection is no more a requisite to art than to heroes. Frigidaires are perfect. Beauty limps. My frigidaire has had to be replaced.

Whoever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor shall be.

The most vigilant self-criticism of course is necessary, but the time comes when the artist must tell himself he is good or he will go under.

Perfection has one grave defect: it is apt to be dull.

All things are complete within ourselves.

Perfect happiness is the absence of happiness; perfect glory is the absence of glory.

Of all religious systems, Islam alone declares that individual perfection is possible in our earthly existence.

He whose preoccupation is with excellence longs fervently to find rest in perfection; and is not nothingness a form of perfection?

In small proportions we just beauties see, And in short measures life may perfect be.

We shall never have friends, if we expect to find them without fault.

People who have no weaknesses are terrible; there is no way of taking advantage of them.

The wise man, the true friend, the finished character, we seek everywhere, and only find in fragments.

Total freedom from error is what none of us will allow to our neighbors; however we may be inclined to flirt a little with such spotless perfection ourselves.

If thou wilt be perfect, go and sell that thou hast, and give to the poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven.

When a man says that he is perfect already, there is only one of two places for him, and that is heaven or the lunatic asylum.

If man cannot, what god dare claim perfection?

All mankind Is born for perfection And each shall attain it Will he but follow His nature's duty.