Quotes & Sayings About Maybe I'm Not Perfect

You do know Chris is thoroughly fucked-up, don't you?" My reply is instant, defensive. Protective. "Aren't we all?" "Not like Chris." I don't ask how he knows. It could be the club. Maybe a friendship that once was and is now lost. It doesn't matter. "It's his imperfections that make him perfect," I reply, and there is conviction in my voice. — Lisa Renee Jones

He turned toward the bookshelf, his back to her, saying nothing. He held out one hand and she gave him the Eliot to shelve. His voice was rough. "'Our words have wings, but fly not where we would.'"
Caroline stepped back into her heels. "I always thought she stole that line from Homer. He was all about the 'winged words' in the Odyssey, and then Eliot comes along with that line and everyone falls all over it."
Brooks seemed to be examining the shelf again. "I thought you liked George Eliot."
"I do. I think she was brilliant. But what does that line mean, anyway? Is it about influence? Writing? Distance?" She shrugged, wishing he would step away from the books and turn around.
"Maybe it means that sometimes what we say doesn't come across the way we mean it to." He finally turned, his lips tilted up a bit at the corners. "I always liked 'nothing is so good as it seems beforehand.' I think that's the perfect Eliot quote for the moment we head off to a garden party. — Mary Jane Hathaway

Things can change only through strong personalities. I am not very good at supporting ignorance and mediocrity, so maybe this leads to arrogant gestures and arrogant responses. So, nobody's perfect. — Edi Rama

I've been thinking about that ever since. Am I lucky? Am I lucky that I didn't die? Am I lucky that, compared to the other kids here, my life doesn't seem so bad? Maybe I am, but I have to say, I don't feel lucky. For one thing, I'm stuck in this pit. And just because your life isn't as awful as someone else's, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck. You can't compare how you feel to the way other people feel. It just doesn't work. What might look like the perfect life - or even an okay life - to you might not be so okay for the person living it. — Michael Thomas Ford

You're so privileged to be there, you feel like you have to complain about something just so you don't have to think about how lucky you are. It's kind of over compensation, I think, when I'm feeling generous about it. Or, when I'm not, I think maybe it's just the basic requirement of being a teenager, feeling like you have to be perfect every time, and when you have an algebra test or a hangnail, the rest of the war-torn, poverty-stricken, deformed world ought to turn its attention to you. — Rachel DeWoskin

Maybe you're not perfect, but you're willing to actually look at yourself and take some kind of accountability. That's a change. It might not mean that you can turn everything around, but I think there's something incredibly hopeful about that. — Brie Larson

Everything I've done has had purpose and has been passionate and has been executed in the best way that I knew how. Maybe that's not the perfect way. Maybe that's not the easiest way. But it's the best way I knew how to do it. — Julia Roberts

Life is too short to judge others. It is not our job to tell someone what they feel or who they are. Why not spend some time on yourself instead? I don't know you, but I can guarantee you have some issues you can work on. And maybe you've got a fit body and a perfect face, but I'll wager you've got insecurities too, ones that would keep you from stripping down to a purple bikini and modeling it in front of everyone.

As for the rest of you, remember this. YOU ARE WANTED. Big, small, tall, short, pretty, plain, friendly, shy. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise not even yourself.

Especially not yourself. — Jennifer Niven

Our hearts will be broken a thousand times over, but who is to say that our hearts were ever perfect to begin with? Maybe they can withstand a few cracks. After all, the way that we love is not perfect. We love things to such an incomprehensible depth that these things become worn in. Wouldn't the most beautiful thing in the world be a heart that has been through all of the wear and tear, as worn in as your favorite sweater that both keeps you warm and grants you a smile in return? That's the kind of heart that I want. Bruises make for beautiful colors after all. — Elizabeth Brooks

I have never heard about any perfect marriage. They say perfect marriages are made in heaven. Nobody comes back from there so maybe it is true, but what kind of marriage will those perfect marriages be? There will be no tension, there will be no individuality in the man or in the woman. They will never collide, they will never fight. They will be too sweet to each other. And too much sweetness brings diabetes! Marriage is an institution that teaches a man regularity, frugality, temperance, forbearance and many other splendid virtues he would not need had he stayed single. — Rajneesh

And I understand now, maybe not completely, but more, that in times of overwhelming joy, immobile sadness, hysterical laughter, absolute fear, and sometimes just perfect quiet there is Life. Real Life. And it really is that simple. I take my gift now. I go live. — Dito Montiel

At this point I came across one of the vending machines that only Japan has. I have to admit that I love the whimsical items sold in such appliances, like all sorts of junk food, beer cans, whisky bottles and even underwear. This particular machine sold both whisky and underwear, which truly is a bizarre combination, or maybe not, considering all the underwear were female panties. It was therefore my theory that older men would come by and buy the whisky, and then when they were drunk and young women passed by, the men would then offer them panties as gifts for sexual favours. Ya, it all made perfect sense to me. — Andrew James Pritchard

Was I ever crazy? Maybe. Or maybe life is ... Crazy isn't being broken or swallowing a dark secret. It's you or me amplified. If you ever told a lie and enjoyed it. If you ever wished you could be a child forever. They were not perfect, but they were my friends. — Susanna Kaysen

Round still, but that's fine.
Feeling good outside and in.
Maybe I'm not thin,
but skinny isn't perfect.
The perfect size is happy. — Nikki Grimes

In that moment I wondered if I
would ever be a mother, or if I even wanted to be. I thought maybe
if I found the perfect husband - stable, wealthy, business-
minded - it could be a possibility, but definitely not in the near fu-
ture. I decided if I did have children, I would surely have my shit
straighter than this lady. — Renee Carlino

I think it's great that she's not perfect and wasn't perfect. I think that's maybe why so many young girls and different people look up to Mac and respect her even more. — Catherine Bell

What do you do?" I ask.

"I live."

"I live" is not an answer, until I think about it. Maybe it's the perfect answer. — Jewel E. Ann

And God did not just ask for the perfect sheep; He also wanted its wool. Deuteronomy 18:4 instructs shepherds to give the first shearing of the sheep as on offering to God. Above the crackling warmth radiating from the stove, I read the verse aloud to Lynne. "Is a first shearing a once-in-a-lifetime offering?" I asked. "Yes, everybody wants the first shearing, especially if it's from one of your best lambs. The first shearing is the finest fleese that's used to the best clothes ... to ask for that is a real sacrifice." ... For the first time in a long while, maybe ever, I had felt with my own hands what God desired from sacrifice. It was nothing like what I expected ... In asking for the first fleece, God isn't asking for the biggest. He wants to smallest and the softest. He doesn't want more-He wants the best." -Scouting the Divine — Margaret Feinberg

Shouldn't I stay? Soldier through it? Maybe if I'd had some practice, maybe if I'd had more devastation in my life, I would be more prepared to go on. It's not that my life has been perfect. I've had disappointments and I've been lonely and frustrated and angry and all the crappy stuff everyone feels. — Gayle Forman

No trees in sight, just concrete
Still I see
Two roads twist and turn in front of me
No signs, but screams
Which way's reality?
So you choose; yeah, you choose
Maybe you lose
The sidewalk paved in hitches
Broken hearts not fixed by stitches
But morning's coming soon
No right in sight, just questions
And you find
There is no map to Mecca
It's just life
No right answer; perfect marks
It's no big deal; it's just your heart
Falling stars and lightning sparks
This will only sting a bit
We are all just
Magnets for fate
Stumbling, skipping, running at our pace
Making choices, losing voices
Making wishes for forgiveness
But morning's coming soon

And no matter where you sit, how fast you sip
The coffee tastes the same on magnet lips

"Magnets for Fate"
-Electric Freakshow — Cat Patrick

God, the three of you.
When I wake up on Saturday mornings
late you always let me sleep in
I come looking for you, and you're in the backyard with dirt on your knees and two little girls spinning around you in perfect orbit. And you put their hair in pigtails, and you let them wear whatever madness they want, and Alice planted a fruit cocktail tree, and Noomi ate a butterfly, and they look like me because they're round and golden, but the glow for you.
And you built us a picnic table.
And you learned to bake bread.
And you've painted a mural on ever west-facing wall.
And it isn't all bad, I promise. I swear to you.
You might not be actively, thoughtfully happy 70 to 80 percent of the time, but maybe you wouldn't be anyway. And even when you're sad, Neal
even when you're falling asleep at the other side of the bed
I think you're happy, too. About some things. About a few things. — Rainbow Rowell

Maybe when it comes to my music, or my performances, I'm a little more aggressive because I want everything to be perfect. But not in normal, day-to-day life. — Tinie Tempah

. . . death isn't anything I need to be afraid of. I'm not a perfect man. But I think I'm a good man. I've lived a hell of a life, even with all the heartache. Millie told me once that the ability to devastate is what makes a song beautiful. Maybe that's what makes life beautiful too. The ability to devastate. Maybe that's how we know we've lived. How we know we've truly loved."

"The ability to devastate," I repeated. And my voice broke. If that wasn't a perfect description of the agony of love, I didn't know what was. — Amy Harmon

That perked Jill up. "Maybe if the atmosphere's romantic enough, you guys can - "
"No, Jailbait." I held up a hand.
"Don't go there."
"But you want to," Jill insisted.
"And she does too, or she wouldn't have made that chart."
"I don't know about that. That chart's the kind of thing she'd do in her free time for fun. Anyway. She and I don't agree on everything, but you not being involved with our sex life is one point we're in perfect harmony on, so there's no point in discussing this. — Richelle Mead

Maybe we'll admit this thing we have is perfect, not worth messing around with. And stay together forever. If you're interested, that is."
She glanced away. "I could think about that."
He buried his face in her neck. "Think fast — Robyn Carr

You little idiot. How the hell do you propose to plow fields, fend off Indians and outlaws, and build a house all by yourself?" Lily was wounded. "Maybe I won't be by myself," she said, wanting to hurt him in the same way he'd hurt her. "Maybe I'll meet a soldier at Fort Deveraux - one who wants to be a farmer. We could get married, and I wouldn't be alone." She started to turn away from him, intending to go back to the buggy, but he grasped her arm and wrenched her back. "You're mine," he breathed through his perfect white teeth. "And I'll kill the man who lays a hand on you." "I'm not yours!" "You are," Caleb argued. "I saw to that last night." Lily was outraged. He was treating her like a piece of land, one he'd homesteaded and laid a permanent claim to. "I told you, last night was a mistake." Deftly, — Linda Lael Miller

There was no other way to say it. After being heartbroken for so long, I had made myself completely numb inside. Maybe not from physical pain, but anything emotional, yes. Sexual pleasure? Numb to that, too. I'd have been a great actress. After all, I had the perfect, mind-blowing orgasm down to an art. Suppose I deserve an Oscar for that. — Jennifer Salaiz

Nobody's perfect. But that doesn't mean you're not perfect for me. And maybe I can be perfect for you, too. — Catherine Gayle

Miss Princeton is . . ." He searched for a way to describe her. "Reckless."
"Reckless?" The word escaped all four men in perfect harmony.
He sighed. It wasn't like him to talk about personal matters. Drawing attention to himself was not his style. Back home in Phoenix people expected their ministers to be dignified and sedate. At age thirty, he'd served his church well. He could only imagine what his congregation would say if they knew how their esteemed leader bared his soul to a group of near strangers.
"Maybe that's not the right word but . . ." He couldn't think of another. "She taught our church ladies to play rounders."
The eye behind the monocle never wavered from its examination of him. "Far as I know, rounders isn't a sin. Why are you all riled up? — Mary Connealy

I think so. There are so many tales, so strange and beautiful and perfect. They are not what are real, but better. I thought I had something that was magic once, but I lost it, and now I don't think it was at all." She touched her chest where the handkerchief had been and frowned. "I wish there was magic. If all the tales were true, then maybe they could tell me what I'm doing, and what I am to do now."
"Ah, now, don't cry over lost years and forgetfulness. The tales tell what they can. The rest is for us to learn. The question is, are we smart enough to figure for ourselves? Now, that's what I'd like to know. — Shannon Hale

I guess relationships are just funny like that. It's impossible to figure out why some work out and others don't. Why someone can be so imperfect and still be the perfect person for you. Maybe, in the end, it's not about changing the person you care about. Maybe it's about learning what you can live with. Or maybe it's really about learning what you can't live without. — Jenny O'Connell

I get caught up in outcomes. I convince myself they're truths. No one will notice how wrong you are if everything you do ends up right. The rest becomes incidental. So incidental that, after a while, you forget. Maybe you are perfect. Good. It must be true. Who can argue with results? You're not so wrong after all. So you buy into it and you go crazy maintaining it. Except it creeps up on you sometimes, that you're not right. Imperfect. Bad. So you snap your fingers and it goes away.
Until something you can't ignore happens and you see it all over yourself.
And there's only one thing left to do. — Courtney Summers

I'm achingly aware of my own limitations as both part of the human race and as an individual. I'm just, casting this out that, maybe, I'm not so perfect as is the affront I oft put on. After all, the lyric is 'I wish I was special'. I truly just want to be loved and accepted, I think, like all humans. — Thom Yorke

Anxiety was not an emotion I could ever remember feeling when I went out in New York, and I wondered why tonight felt so different. Maybe it was because I no longer had a boyfriend or fiance. I suddenly recognized that there was safety in having someone, as well as a lack of pressure to shine. Ironically, this had cultivated a certain free-spiritedness that had, in turn, allowed me to be the life of the party and hoard the affection of additional men ... But that had all changed. I didn't have a boyfriend, a perfect figure, or alcohol-induced outrageousness to fall back on. — Emily Giffin

A pen, you see, you hold it between your thumb and your index finger. No, wait, you hold it however you want. After that, it's not hard, you don't even think about it. Your hands don't exist anymore. The important thing happens elsewhere. No, this won't do, it's still too pretty. You're not being asked to come up with something pretty, you know. No one gives a damn about pretty. There are children's drawings and glossy magazines for that. So put on your mittens, little genius, little empty shell, yes, go on, put them on, I tell you, and maybe at last you'll see, you'll draw an almost perfect failed circle. — Anna Gavalda

I feel happy, I feel sad, I feel like running through the walls
I'm overjoyed, I'm undecided, I don't know who I am
Well maybe I'm not perfect, at least I'm working on it — Paramore

I leaned down and kissed her mouth. It tasted salty, like her tears. This time, not warmth, but electricity shot from my mouth to my toes. I could feel tingling in my fingertips. It was like shoving a pen into an electrical outlet, which Link had dared me to do when I was eight years old. She closed her eyes and pulled me into her, and for a minute, everything was perfect. She kissed me, her lips beneath mine, and I knew she had been waiting for me, maybe just as long as I have been waiting for her. But then, as quickly as she had opened herself up to me, she shut me out. Or more accurately, pushed me back. — Kami Garcia

How come you're in such a good mood? You couldn't have gotten much more sleep than I did last night. Are you a morning person?" I ask in mock horror."A mornin' person, well maybe, but let's just say I got to experience the nicest parts of hell last night," he says quietly,taking the shirt I offer him. As he rises out of thebed, I can't help looking over his perfect abdomen and chest before he shrugs into his shirt."I'm sorry, the nicest parts of hell? What does that mean?" I ask."Red, yer not a guy, so there's no point explainin', — Amy A. Bartol

BUDGE (muffled)
No,no,nono.
NURSE BAKER
I understand what you're trying to say.
BUDGE
A hideous scream.
NURSE BAKER
Exactly.
BUDGE
A cry of desperation.
NURSE BAKER
Perfect.
BUDGE
A strangled sob. A plea torn from my throat. What sound can I make to convince you I'm not the one you want? A disconsolate sigh? Maybe that's what you want to hear. The smallest human moan imaginable. A whisper in a corner of an unlit room, with curtains blowing in the wind.
NURSE BAKER
What could be more touching? — Don DeLillo

I'm feeling really hopeful about it, like maybe I actually have a chance to get better. To be happy. It's funny, I just realized that my whole life, the whole time I've been trying to be perfect, I never once considered happiness as part of the equation. I guess it seemed so impossible I couldn't even let myself fantasize about it. But now, I don't know, things feel different somehow. Like impossible things might not be so impossible. — Amy Reed

Or maybe it was my definition of "perfect" that had changed. Somewhere between the chicken soup and the butter-bleeding pie, I'd made peace with the God of pots and pans - not because God wanted to meet me in the kitchen, but because He wanted to meet me everywhere, in all things, big or small. Knowing that God both inhabits and transcends our daily vocations, no matter how glorious or mundane, should be enough to unite all women of faith and end that nasty cycle of judgment we get caught in these days. — Rachel Held Evans

I do what most women do. I meet someone and some of it's right, maybe he looks right, or has the right job, or the right background, and, instead of sitting back and waiting for him to reveal his other bits, I make them up. I decide how he thinks, how he's going to treat me, and, sure enough, every time I conclude that this time he's definitely my perfect man, and all of a sudden, well, not so suddenly perhaps, usually around six months after we've split up, I see that he wasn't the person I thought he was at all. — Jane Green

I'm no perfect gymnast. I want to go out and eat junk food, or I maybe don't sleep as much as I should, or some days I'll leave the gym and think, "Maybe I should have worked a little harder. Maybe I'm not as tired as I need to be." Every day you push a little harder, eat a little better, maybe go to bed a little earlier. — Jonathan Horton

Maybe other writers have perfect first drafts, but I am not one of them. I always try to get the book as tight as I can, but you reach a point as the author where you have lost all perspective. — Sarah Dessen

The baby was warm against my chest. I knew I was broken too. I wasn't like other people. I was scared and weird and anxious and sad lots of the time, and I didn't know why. My parents thought I was abnormal, I was pretty sure. They said I wasn't, but you don't get sent to a therapist if you're normal.
Sometimes we really aren't supposed to be the way we are. It's not good for us. And people don't like it. You've got to change. You've got to try harder and do deep breathing and maybe one day take pills and learn tricks so you can pretend to be more like other people. Normal people. But maybe Vanessa was right, and all those other people were broken too in their own ways. Maybe we all spent too much time pretending we weren't. — Kenneth Oppel

It's all a lie. I said to myself. Romance. This notion that some guy is going to swoop and fall madly in love with me and change my life and make everything perfect. It's one big, horrible lie and I bought it. Hook, line, and a ten thousand-pound sinker. Or I guess I should say it's a lie for a girl like me. For Skye, that's another story. The first time Dakota kissed me, down at the hot tub, I remember thinking, this is too good to be true. But if something feels too good to be true, maybe it's not true. Maybe the truth is that Skye deserves him. She'll always be the winner. And I, pathetically, will always be me. — Carolyn Mackler

I have to admit I wasn't to keen on this idea when you first told me you were going out at midnight to see him, but I guess maybe I was wrong ... Have you guys?
God, Karen. I rolled my eyes.
Oh well, let's not hope that's not the killer in the relationship since he sounds perfect in every other way.
Wow, thanks for spoiling it nerd. — Karice Bolton

Did I tell you I finally found the perfect page-cutter? It's a pearl-handled fruit knife. My mother left me a dozen of them, I keep one in the pencil cup on my desk. Maybe I go with the wrong kind of people but i'm just not likely to have twelve guests all sitting around simultaneously eating fruit. — Helene Hanff

These aren't me!" I screamed in a whisper, two tears slipping down my cheeks. "Whatever you see, it's not me. I'm just a fuck-up who doesn't know anything, not even what he's doing from moment to moment. And I'm scared all the time, and I don't know how to be anything else, except maybe angry and sad."
His arms tightened around me. "I don't need you to be perfect. I don't need you to never make mistakes. I just need you to let me give you as much of myself as I can, and to trust that I will try as hard as possible never to hurt you intentionally. Can you do that? Can you just let me love you? — Amelia C. Gormley

Well," I said, "I have to go."
He said, "Can I call you?"
I waited a long time before answering, though not, of course, as long as he'd made me wait. I let him stand there with the question in the air while I took a good long look at him, let him stand there while I stepped to the street and raised my arm for a cab. At exactly that moment, as though dispatched by some god I didn't really believe in anymore - the god of drama or god of perfect things - or maybe by my own fairy god god, a cab came. I got in, and closed the door. — Melissa Bank

There is a certain way that life ought to be, an ideal way, a perfect way, and there is the way that life is, not quite the opposite of ideal, not quite the opposite of perfect, it just is not quite the way it should be but not quite the way it should not be either; I mean to say that in any situation, only one or two, maybe even three out of ten, things are just what you have been praying for. — Jamaica Kincaid

I am fearful of romantic dinners,
huge crowds, dusk -
of normal things-
afraid to be loved,
the one thing I want most.
Maybe it's because I don't think I deserve it
because I am not that perfect
little girl that I was supposed to be,
well manicured and well groomed,
because I have nervous breakdowns,
and take pills,
and keep moving on. — Samantha Schutz

I told him about the Oedipal thing, about my father leaving when I was very young so I knew how to pine for men, but not how to love them. So he said, 'You'd probably would have been perfect for somebody in World War Two. You'd meet him and then he would get shipped overseas.' And I said, 'Maybe on our date I could drop you off and you could enlist,' and he said he would just got out and rent a uniform. So he was very funny. — Carrie Fisher

That's what we called him. Our prince. And we were princesses. God's princesses. His daughters, who deserved nothing less than God's best. And while we were determining God's best, the message was clear: don't settle for anything less. Ladies, we've gone nuts. Of course God wants us to marry a great guy. Of course he wants us to find someone who loves us, treats us right, and maybe even makes our heart beat a little faster. He certainly wants someone whose calling we can join, a man with whom we can serve God with effectiveness and joy. But while I'm all for understanding our worth in God's eyes, remember that we're not perfect prima donnas who deserve the best and nothing less. On the contrary, we're sinners who will someday marry other sinners. God has a plan for our future marriages, and it's not to fulfill all our dreams or give us a storybook ending. His goal is to work out his purposes and glorify himself. — Lisa Anderson

I didn't work hard to make Ruby perfect for everyone, because you feel differently from me. No language can be perfect for everyone. I tried to make Ruby perfect for me, but maybe it's not perfect for you. The perfect language for Guido van Rossum is probably Python. — Yukihiro Matsumoto

I put out a lot of different kinds of material, and maybe people read that as egotistical. Or maybe, since a lot of it does involve some aspect of me, they find it self-aggrandizing. But there's a long tradition of artists using themselves. Look, I know I'm not perfect. And, who knows, maybe a part of it has to do with self-obsession. But it's also about using this weird thing that is a public persona as raw material for creative projects. — James Franco

When it gets dark, it's only because god has tucked me in a cleft of the rock and covered me, protected, with His hand? In the pitch, I feel like I'm falling, sense the bridge giving way, God long absent. In the dark, the bridge and my world shakes, cracking dreams.
But maybe this is true reality: It is in the dark that God is passing by. the bridge and our lives shake not because God has abandoned, but the exact opposite: God is passing by. God is in the tremors. Dark is the holiest ground, the glory passing by. In the blackest, God is closest, at work, forging His perfect and right will. Though it is black and we can't see and our world seems to be free-falling and we feel utterly alone, Christ is most present to us, I-beam supporting in earthquake. — Ann Voskamp

Every sentence I could think of has already been said a hundred times over, by people whose words come out perfect and beautifully formed, where mine die on the tongue or straggle out onto the page, mangled and imperfect. But my story isn't perfect, because I'm not perfect. Nothing is perfect except maybe in math, in the line that extends forever in both directions. Math is beautiful, I have always known that, but so is life. And I have grown to accept imperfection. — Aubrey Rose

WHAT I'M ASKING for is not that much. I just want a boyfriend who is sweet and trustworthy. That's it. He doesn't need to have a perfect body or look like George Clooney. I want a guy who wants to curl up on a Friday night and watch Netflix. He can even pick the show. I mean, ideally, it's serialized and female-driven, and maybe not that boring political one. But honestly, I don't care. It's not important. — Mindy Kaling

He took a deep breath. "You make me question myself," he said. "All the time, every day. I was brought up to believe I had to be perfect. A perfect warrior, a perfect son. Even when I came to live with the Lightwoods, I thought I had to be perfect, because otherwise they would send me away. I didn't think love came with forgiveness. And then you came along, and you broke everything I believed into pieces, and I started to see everything differently. You had - so much love, and so much forgiveness, and so much faith. So I started to think that maybe I was worth that faith. That I didn't have to be perfect; I had to try, and that was good enough." He lowered his eyelids; she could see the faint pulse at his temple, feel the tension in him. "So I think you were the wrong person for the Jace that I was, but not the Jace that I am now, the Jace you helped make me. Who is, incidentally, a Jace I like much better than the old one. You've changed me for the better. — Cassandra Clare

I have been tossing around the idea of writing some non-fiction. Maybe a collection of short stories about my experience being a mom and how not to be perfect. — Melissa Peterman

And if you don't agree, I'll tie you up - and not in the fun way - and lock you in your bedroom."
My mouth dropped open.
"Okay, maybe in the fun way. Like later, after everything is done, I'll come back and - "
I cut him off. "I'd like to see you try to tie me up."
His eyebrow arched. "I bet you would."
"Shut up," I growled. "I'm being serious."
"So am I. You're wearing the opal."
I scowled. "This makes no sense."
"It makes perfect sense. — Jennifer L. Armentrout

But it's different for a girl, and Astor is at the age- It's not too dry, is it?" She said, frowning at my plate.
"It's perfect," I said.
"It is dry; I'm sorry. So I thought maybe if you would talk to her," Rita finished. I truly hoped she meant talk to Astor and not the pork chop. — Jeff Lindsay

I am YOUR biggest fan, I love each one of you because of the support that you took to me. I know that people been saying that I do this for money, but I really don't. I do this for YOU, for your loyalty, for everything you've done, you are doing and you'll do in my life. Music has been my whole life since I was 4 years old, but you turned it into a whole experience of happiness. I know that I am not perfect, and maybe I don't worth it to put on your headphones and listen to this 14-years-old wannabe, full of ego and that brag about almost everything, but it's not about that, it's about you — Maat Morrison

I'll bet he misses it."
"Almost as much as I miss him being on the road."
She frowned. "You don't really mean that."
"Mostly not."
"Good. But I do sort of get it," she said slowly. "The siblings-driving-you-crazy thing. My sisters .
. well, they're perfect. As far as my parents are concerned."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. They're married."
"And that's perfect, huh? What about you? You're successful, right? Your column is pretty big."
"Oh, it's huge," she said, her tone overdramatic, earning a chuckle from Cole. "I'm kind of a big
deal. But I don't have a husband, so ... my parents think maybe I'm not such a big deal."
"So, you're the black sheep."
"Baaaaa."
"Nice."
"Thanks. — Maisey Yates

I think one of the biggest mistakes that America has made - and maybe the world because this is, sort of, the core of communism and socialism - is that you can have perfect solutions to social problems like poverty, like crime. You're not going to eliminate all crime. Maybe you'll never eliminate all poverty. — Rudy Giuliani

I'm doing what I like, why wouldn't I be happy? So what if it's not perfect, I don't believe in perfection. Maybe happy's as good as it gets. — John Dunning

Hey,maybe I could have a talk show, since you aren't going to be my June Cleaver anymore. I could call it the O'Neal Hour. Sounds important, doesn't it?" [Butch to Vishous]
"First of all, you were going to be June Cleaver-"
"Screw that. No way I'd bottom for you."
"Whatever. And second, I don't think there's much of a market for your particular brand of psychology."
"So not true."
"Butch, you and I just beat the crap out of each other."
"You started it. And actually, it would be perfect for Spike TV. UFC meets Oprah. God, I'm brilliant."
"Keep telling yourself that. — J.R. Ward