What an absurd thing it is to pass over all the valuable parts of a man, and fix our attention on his infirmities.
He censures God who quarrels with the imperfections of men.
It is only imperfection that complains of what is imperfect.—The more perfect we are, the more gentle and quiet we become toward the defects of others.
I am too conscious of mine own imperfections to rake into and dilate upon the failings of other men; and though I carry always some ill-nature about me, yet it is, I hope, no more than is in this world necessary for a preservative.
Imperfection is in some sort essential to all that we know of life.—Nothing that lives is, or can be rigidly perfect.—The fox-glove blossom, a third part bud; a third part past, and a third part in full bloom, is a type of the life of this world.
No human face is exactly the same in its lines on each side; no leaf is perfect in its lobes, and no branch in its symmetry.—All admit irregularity, as they imply change.—To banish imperfection is to destroy expression, to check exertion, to paralyze vitality.—All things are better, lovelier, and more beloved for the imperfections which have been divinely appointed, that the law of human life may be effort, and the law of human judgment may be mercy.
The finer the nature, the more flaws will show through the clearness of it; and it is a law of this universe that the best things shall be seldomest seen in their best forms.
Great men are very apt to have great faults; and the faults appear the greater by their contrast with their excellencies.