A Quote by Michael Jackson

My mother is fine. For me it perfection. — © Michael Jackson
My mother is fine. For me it perfection.
Grain is life, there's all this striving for perfection with digital stuff. Striving is fine, but getting there is not great. I want a sense of the human and that is what breathes life into a picture. For me, imperfection is perfection.
The tension to mother the "right" way can leave a peculiar silence within mother daughter relationships--the silence of a mother'sown truth and experience. Within this silence, a daughter's authentic voice can also fall silent. This is the silence of perfection. This silence of perfection prevents mothers from listening and learning from their daughters.
My mother is the sort of woman who not only can raise a chicken and roast it to moist perfection but, as she proved to my openmouthed sister and me on a family holiday to Morocco when we were very young, can barter for one in a market, kill it, pluck it, and then cook it to perfection.
Singing a song like 'Your Love Is Killing Me,' people are worried about me. My mother called me, like, 'What's going on with you? Are you alright? I thought you were doing fine.' And I'm like, 'I am doing fine. It's just, this is what I do.'
I don't see perfection as far as a visual image of perfection. "Perfection" to me is, I walk away from a situation and say, "I did everything I could do right there. There was nothing more that I could do." Like, I worked as hard as I possibly could have. That's perfection.
My mother's wonderful. To me she's perfection.
It's the same with spirit guises; show me a sweet little choirboy or a smiling mother and I'll show you the hideous fanged strigoi it really is. (Not always. Just sometimes. *Your* mother is absolutely fine, for instance. Probably.)
Repetition is the mother of perfection. If there is true perfection, it's about doing something over and over again. I truly think that if somebody does a recipe they've never done before and gets it right, they're probably more lucky than they are talented.
My mother got sick when I was rich. And my mother, you know … I don’t really want to get into it, but my mother was sicker than my father. And my mother’s alive. My mother’s fine, OK? I remember going to the hospital to see my mother and wondering, ‘Was I in the right place?’ Like, this was a hotel. Like it had a concierge, man. If the average person really knew the discrepancy in the health care system, there’d be riots in the streets, OK? They would burn this m-therf—ker down!
I have been incredibly blessed with a mother who supports me 100 percent - she sees nothing but perfection in her daughter.
I want to make as much money as I possibly can so that when my day comes, my mother and sister is fine. My close friends are fine. They don't have to worry about anything ever again.
I do have health insurance (don't fine me, [Barack] Obama!). And while we agree that career is important, my mother has an AOL email address and shares articles she finds interesting on Facebook by screen shotting and posting a picture of them. So, if mother doesn't understand links, she's not going to understand what I do for a living. I'm confident in my current career trajectory, so this will be another Mother's Day disappointment.
I'm fine with playing the protagonist's mother, mother-in-law or friend - as long as my role is well-written.
I always had the sense that nothing was never good enough - striving for perfection. My mother and I had a sort of typical mother-daughter relationship.
She had to play the role of mother and father at the same time, and she did it to perfection. I managed to find a way through because of her. My mother is my biggest inspiration.
My mother was a very absent mother. She was going out, she was drinking a lot, she liked to have fun. It's fine with me. I have no bitterness about it. When I was 3, she went to America for months. I never had any problems with that. I even liked it.
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