Pure Pefection Novels & Stories

#songs #AdamLambert. - Better than I know myself #TheScript #Army of angels Clara I'm not perfect .I've always said that; perfection isn't perfection unless there are imperfections visible... So we are all imperfectly perfect . There are some moments in life when you feel undeserving of what you have or like a total loser.I've had many of those days and weeks ,when I sometimes feel like I'm not being a good enough mother to my son , or perfect wife to my husband . When you wake up in the morning and wish you could fall back to sleep cause you hate feeling like you are failing at a role you should perfectly fit into cause you've had enough practice, however you still feel like you are always

(THE PERFECT ONE) “THE perfect one.” Nate could only clench his hands into a tight fists. While he couldn’t dare to say a word, nor argue anymore with Haruna. All after what she just said to him and the truth that they are all approaching the end. “We both may be the offspring of the prominent ones in our respective world and book, but only one of us is the perfect one.” Haruna suddenly whispers. Holding back her emotions to draw that certain regret and pain not towards Haru, but all to herself. A fact that Nate is never dumb to not read and recognize, yet he chooses to stay silent regardless of things.

Surprisingly, my soul floated midair. I didn't disappear right away. I watched Healer Petra Holmes gasp the moment the scalpel dove into my skin, and only one kidney was found. "Why does she only have one kidney?" she boomed. "This is ridiculous! How could they make her donate her kidney when she only has one? This is murder!" Just then, her assistant panicked and yelled, "Healer Petra, the patient's stopped breathing. What's going on?"

(Tara’s POV) “Tara, you’re...you’re early,” He stammers, his face turning pale like he stops breathing for a few seconds. I was sure my face was red. I could feel the heat creeping through my skin as I saw Blake wearing nothing except the lightweight towel hugging his hips. Like him, I stopped breathing. His hair is still dripping wet, looking like a model of expensive male perfume. I swallowed hard as my eyes feasted on his well-developed physique. How could heaven give this man a perfect body? This is one of those moments that I would want to open G****e to look for a better word to describe him at this moment. Hunk? Sexy? A very sexually attractive man.

It started with sincere love and kindness because doing such things costs you nothing. Thanks to Mr. Stephen, people like him made me a princess overnight. And those that had given up on love, destiny, family and hope... I've come to realize that nobody is left behind. No matter how perfect, or imperfect you think you are. I want you to know that life isn’t meant to be lived perfectly…but merely to be LIVED. Boldly, wildly, beautifully, uncertainly, imperfectly, magically LIVED. Since no one is perfect, it follows that all great deeds have been accomplished out of imperfection. Yet they were accomplished, somehow, all the same. There is nothing more rare, nor more beautiful, than a woman bei

“Because God is doing it for me. He’s in Malawi, a shell of himself. That’s enough.” “You have made everyone believe you are this perfect man who always kept his hands clean, who’s forgiving. But I see it now. You don’t have clean hands. You just hide the dirt better than anyone else.” “Ok Judith, what now?” Judith paused. “How do you sleep without yourself?” “Like a baby. We are not going to have problems, right?“ “You need help.” He hung up and returned to the altar. Seemah walked down in a bridesmaid dress. Their eyes met and she blushed standing onto the other side.

pure , raw and animalistic one . A vulgar smile curved his mouth " now let's get this bra off as well "

In her mind, no one was truly perfect in this world. The so-called perfect person should not eat or drink and be capable of doing everything. That was called true perfectionism. Only gods should be so perfect. Were they gods? Weren't they just like humans like everyone else? Yet they pretended to be perfectionists. Julien found her huffing look cute, and he couldn't help but pinch her cheek. It felt tender and good. "Radical, indeed," Julien echoed. As a model husband, he needed to support his wife.

Our attraction, making up for every blemish and every weakness. Our Passion was perfect regardless of our imperfections.

“What do you see? Because all I see right now is emptiness.” “Put enough imperfections together and, eventually, you will achieve perfection. But even then, perfection is all about perspective. Maybe you and Ivan and your imperfections will make the kind of perfect you both need.” She cupped my cheeks and kissed the top of my head. “Sit here, drink wine, and I will go and call my pain-in-the-arse twin to make sure he’s not taking a hammer to a door or something.”