Human beings and their social orders are intrinsically imperfectible and fortunately so. In a constantly changing world, we need the flexibility that only imperfection provides.

I love this world because it is imperfect. It is imperfect, and that's why it is growing; if it was perfect it would have been dead. Growth is possible only if there is imperfection. I would like you to remember again and again, I am imperfect, the whole universe is imperfect, and to love this imperfection, to rejoice in this imperfection is my whole message.

It's okay to slow down,
to turn your face to the sun,
to breathe deeply under the stars,
to rest in a warm embrace.
It’s okay to live in the moment
when the moment is worth living in,
to cry tears of joy or pain or both
when life feels too big or too hard,
to twirl with arms wide open
when you want to feel young
and free and invincible again
despite age and time and circumstance.
It’s okay to feel, to fail, to try, to win,
to laugh, to cry, to live, to die,
all on your own terms.
It’s okay to be wholly and imperfectly you.
It’s okay to be human.

The imperfect is our paradise.

Make a list of all the imperfect people you’ve known in your life who have had love. Who have had romantic partners and best friends and jobs you could only ever dream of. Make a list of all the people who are conventionally unattractive and spiritually adrift and imperfect and all the things each one of them had despite being that way. Make it your own personal proof that you do not need to be perfect to be good enough.

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.

Learning together to live well in an imperfect world, loving each other despite or even because of our imperfections, and growing as humans while we grow our little humans, those are the goals of gentle parenting.

It becomes easier for me to accept myself as a decidedly imperfect person, who by no means functions at all times in the way in which I would like to function.

We’re all different and we’re all imperfect, and the imperfections are what makes each of us and our work interesting.

Love isn't finding a perfect person. It's seeing an imperfect person perfectly.

Struggling is okay. Back-stepping is okay. Small bits of progress are not only okay, they’re admirable.

What ought to be imperfect in time is, because of its very imperfection there, perfect when viewed under the form of eternity. To live, to live just as we do, that — if we could only realize it — is the purpose and the crown of living. We must seek improvement; we must be dissatisfied with ourselves; that is the appointed attitude, the histrionic pose, that is to keep the ball rolling. But while we feel this dissatisfaction we are perfectly satisfactory, and while we play our game and constantly lose it, we are winning the game for God.

It's okay to have flaws, that's what makes you real.

It is the imperfections of life that are lovable.