Novel & Cerita Perfection Synonym

“You don’t seem like the perfect choice for Ava.” I turned to her, arching a brow. “And what does that mean?” She shrugged. “She’s… steady. She cares about things that aren’t measured in numbers or power. And you… well, you like control.” Andrew snorted. “In other words, she’s not the type to just fall into your world and let you have your way.” Something in me bristled at that. Janice continued, her voice softer this time. “But love isn’t about perfection, Logan. It never is. If you want her, you have to accept that first.”

… Sam and Derek were nothing alike. Sam was gentle. He smiled easily—the kind of smile that felt like warm sunlight in early spring, the kind that made everything okay. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe he was too gentle, too good. One night, on his way home, he saw a little boy fall into a river. He jumped in without a second thought. He saved the boy. But he never came back up. If that were all, maybe I wouldn't have gone so crazy trying to find someone to replace him.

But it was gone before I could place it. “You’ll adjust,” he said finally, turning back to the window. “Sure.” I should’ve left then, but I didn’t. Something kept me rooted in place, staring at the man who seemed so untouchable yet so completely alone. “You know,” I said softly, “you don’t have to keep everything perfect all the time.” He looked at me then, eyes like blue ice under city lights. “Perfection is control, Sophia. And control is necessary.” “Even in your own home?”

“You wish to use the Chaos here to grow” “You wish to consume Chaos to reach heights you cannot normally reach in the realm outside” “Smart boy” “Greedy boy” “Seeker of perfection” “You want to be the epitome of perfection” “To gain a perfect foundation” “To make no mistakes” “What a keen mind” “Yet a foolish thought”

[note to QI: above line says perfume too, so I kept this neutral/vague by changing to liquid] She then glared at me and asked, "Did you tamper with the perfume, Helena?" I shrugged my shoulders, looking completely innocent. "What on earth are you talking about? Why don't I understand what you're getting at, Queenie? Is it possible that your perfume has simply gone bad?" Queenie asked through gritted teeth, "Didn't you realize that the person who uses this perfume can't actually smell it? How did the perfume I gave you end up on my vanity, Helena?"

I knew I sounded harsh right then, but I couldn't stop myself. I'd scored 626 on the National College Entrance Exam—200 points above the undergraduate cutoff—yet I couldn't get into college now. Nicole swayed where she stood, and her tears fell even harder. "Fi, don't blame Preston. I begged him… I was just too scared to lose you. Your grades are so good. Once you get to college, you'd definitely make new friends. I was afraid you wouldn't want to be my friend anymore…"

Not so much that it would even be showing in my voice. She shakes her head, then she blesses me with one of her smiles. The one I was scared would make me burn the whole world to the ground if she so much as asked. “No, you look perfect.” I have been called many things in my life. I couldn’t remember half of it. But perfect. Perfect is one no one has used before. Not in the three centuries that I have lived. Definitely not directed at me. “If I’m perfect, then what are you?” I ask her. “Hmmm, little wolf?”

The bloodlust vanished from the air like it never existed. “Well, at least I am perfect at being flawed…” Ezra sipped in the coffee, making loud slurping noises which was clearly annoying Raven even more. “I am flawlessly imperfect.” He continued in a dreamy tone, like he was reciting the hymn of the universe. “Imperfectum est perfectio. Perfectio est illusionis. Imperfection is perfection and perfection is illusion. So, you are an illusion, Raven.” He pointed his finger at Raven. Ouch. That must have hurt, and it clearly did. I gaped at Raven.

There was no reason for me to be angry since the conversation went well, a little too well but still I’m angry. Anybody who knows me knows am a perfectionist, there shouldn’t be any flaws in my plans or projects. Because if there’s even a slight error I go berserk. It’s like a thing I was born with I’m not a perfectionist because I love precision. I’m a perfectionist because I don’t survive mistakes, Perfectionism isn’t ambition It’s defense and I don’t leave room for error. People like me don’t get margins! I notice disorder before I notice anything else. It’s like seeing a chair pulled out too far with the need to correct it or a stack of papers misaligned on the table, or maybe Someone’s

Not for anything. Not ever. This was home. This was love. This was everything. And it was more than enough. It was perfect. In all its imperfect glory. Perfect.