A Quote by Louise Erdrich
We all got holes in our lives. Nobody dies in a perfect garment.
Related Quotes
Paintings are seldom guilty and often framed for crimes they did not commit. Some cover holes-holes in walls, holes in lives. Some make holes-in wallets, holes in hearts...in negative space.
I want to put a soul in a garment. I don't want my clothes to be perfect, because human beings are not perfect. You can meet somebody in one of my jackets and it can all look a bit wrong, but also human and beautiful. Cutting nonchalance into a garment is difficult, because you can't just make an oversized or an asymmetric garment - it will look ugly. Making it look natural is delicate work. If it's too obvious, then it looks fake. Balancing the garment is a painstaking task, because you have to keep in mind how the clothes move.
So much of our lives is given over to the consideration of our imperfections that there is no time to improve our imaginary virtues. The truth is we only perfect our vices, and man is a worse creature when he dies than he was when he was born.
Nobody has a perfect anything. We don't have perfect lives. We're not perfect beings.
Rebuilding us. Isn't that what the spirit requires, when we climb over the wreckage of our lives, sometimes, we go on to make our lives our own affirmation? We are perfect expressions of perfect Love, here and now. There is no permanent injury.
Love yourself. Nobody's perfect. I mean, come on, nobody is perfect. Not you, not your mom, even the people on TV - nobody is perfect, and there's always something that nobody likes, but you know, you just accept that. Your imperfections make you beautiful. It's those things you find you don't like that someone else finds very special and very unique about you.
Nobody's perfect, so don't go out there and try to act like you got to live a perfect life. Be yourself, and be happy with it.
It had struck me that the world was full of holes, holes which you could fall into, never to be seen again. I couldn't understand the difference between disappearance and death. Both seemed the same to me, both left holes. Holes in your heart holes in your life.
There are holes in our lives that can never be filled - not really, not ever.
I want to put a soul in a garment. I don't want my clothes to be perfect, because human beings are not perfect.
99% of the people in the world would say there's something that they'd like to change about their lives, because nothing's perfect, and nobody's perfect. I suppose I could look at the glass half-empty instead of as half-full.
Nobody knows I'm Elvis, nobody knows this is me. After all of my tries, I've got the perfect disguise.
Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don't know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.
You know, I've got a plan that could rescue Apple. I can't say any more than that it's the perfect product and the perfect strategy for Apple. But nobody there will listen to me.
We can never know what to want, because, living only one life, we can neither compare it with our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come.
The black holes of nature are the most perfect macroscopic objects there are in the universe: the only elements in their construction are our concepts of space and time.
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