Quotes About Practice Makes Perfect

When I got reborn into my youthful years, I turned down the marriage proposal of Seth Klein, the future major general. Instead, I chose to be with Nathan Prescott, who lived a poor life. My mother thought I was possessed. After all, the entire village knew that I, the village chief's daughter, used to follow the well-educated Mr. Klein around all the time. Apparently, I was willing to do anything just to marry him. I soon recalled what happened in my previous life. After I married Seth, we never consummated our marriage. He even brought back a child, claiming that said child belonged to a fellow soldier who had passed on in the war. I viewed the child as my own and made an effort to raise him. It wasn't until our fiftieth anniversary that I discovered a secret after barging into Seth's study, which had always been forbidden to me. It turned out that the study was plastered with photos of my older cousin, Catherine Parker—the most beautiful woman in the village. The thing was, she had been dead for a long time. The truth was, Seth has always been capable of performing in bed. He was merely practicing abstinence because of Catherine. Furious, I collapsed and was admitted to the hospital. But my son, whom I treated as my own, was the one who unplugged my life support with his own hands. "If it weren't for you taking over my mom's position as the actual wife, she wouldn't have died as an unknown mistress!" After my death, I witnessed Seth getting a joint burial with Catherine as husband and wife. As for my ashes, they were randomly scattered into a dried-up river. Now that I was reborn, I chose to fulfill their wish!

My daughter-in-law cheated on my son behind his back, and I caught her. When I confronted her, she turned the tables on me, accusing me instead. I told my son everything exactly as it happened, but she broke down crying and accused me of bullying her. "Ever since I married into the Simmons family, you've never been happy with me," she sobbed. "If I’d known you’d slander me like this, I would’ve been better off dead!" She attempted to hurt herself to prove her innocence, but my son stopped her. "Mom, how could you accuse my wife like that? You're my own mother, but this is too much!" he shouted. Furious, he moved out with her. Later, I fell gravely ill and begged my son to come see me one last time. When he finally arrived, he brought her with him. To my horror, they removed my oxygen tube. As I struggled to breathe, I heard her smug voice whisper in my ear: "Old hag, if it weren't for you accusing me of cheating, Herman and I wouldn’t have gotten your inheritance so quickly!" She laughed coldly. "Oh, and next time you accuse someone, make sure you have evidence. Did you really think your word alone could ruin me?" I died choking on my final breath. Afterward, they lived happily, spending my money without a care in the world. But then, I woke up. It was the day I caught her cheating again. This time, I went straight to work. I replaced the lubricant at home with industrial-strength glue. She wanted proof? Fine. I’d give her proof.

After my third dive in search of my missing boyfriend, I suffer a miscarriage. When I wake up in the hospital and find out he's still alive, I rip out the IV and drag myself home. But as I approach the house, I overhear Beck Wilder talking to his friends. "Maren had a child with her ex-husband. Who knows if she's really over him? "I can't go through with the wedding without being sure. I'd rather set a trap to see if she'd risk everything for me." Someone hesitates. "What if she finds out you lied? She might get furious and leave you." Beck chuckles confidently. "She's a breeze to manipulate. I'll make her sign the marriage papers and host a lavish wedding. She'll be as meek as a kitten." Two weeks later, I leave the miscarriage report on the wedding dress and walk away. The once-proud heir of the Wilder family is left in tears, scouring every inch of Larkspur in desperate search of his runaway bride.

My husband's beloved lover suffered from menstruation complications. A traveling doctor claimed that a fresh placenta was needed to cure her. His gaze fixated on my seven-months-pregnant baby bump. And thus, I was pinned down on the bed as they ripped the placenta from my body. My son was carelessly tossed aside. He didn't even get the chance to cry before his tiny body fell silent forever. My husband pinched his nose in disgust, frowning as he looked at me—bleeding out, feebly reaching for my child. “It’s just a premature baby. He'll be fine after a few days of care. Why are you making such a fuss? Sandra is waiting for her medicine." He left and locked the door behind him without looking back. He claimed it was a lesson I needed to learn. By the time he finally remembered us, my son and I had long since bled dry, our bodies cold and stiff.

Despite dreaming of attending university all my life, I ended up stuck in my farming village. I married my brother-in-law and became my nephew’s stepmother. This all happened because my sister died trying to make money for my tuition fees on the day my results came out. I thought I had failed to secure a place at university and stopped thinking about higher education out of guilt. I married my brother-in-law according to my sister’s wishes. To pay for my sins, I raised my nephew and treated him like my own son. I made money and tutored him so that he could get into Northside University. In the end, I developed late-stage cancer. Before dying, I attended my nephew’s celebration, but he publicly accused me of being a homewrecker while my husband agreed that I had seduced him. They brought out my sister, dead for eighteen years, and made me apologize to her. It was then that I found out she had faked her death and used my university admission letter to finish her study. She had become a university lecturer after tricking me into taking care of her family. Outraged, I had a cerebral hemorrhage. When I woke up, I found I had gone back to the day my sister faked her death.

I suffer from a hereditary form of amnesia. By the time I found out, I had only seven days left. On the first day, I found my boyfriend had fallen for my younger twin sister. With a bitter smile, I suggested we break up. On the second day, my most treasured Lego set was smashed by my sister. Everyone laughed at me, saying I was disgraceful, unworthy of being a daughter of the Fleming family. On the fourth day, I forgot that my sister was allergic to mangoes. She ended up in the hospital, and my parents glared at me with resentment. Even my ex-boyfriend accused me of being heartless. On the seventh day, I woke up in a hospital bed to see my father walking in with a stern expression. He demanded that I quit my job and devote myself entirely to taking care of the family, as nothing more than a housekeeper. But I only looked at them in confusion and asked softly, “Who are you?” When they realized I had truly lost my memory, they lost their minds.

A year after Easton Carter turns down my 99th proposal, he calls me in the middle of the night, crying like his world's falling apart. He says his grandmother is dying and her last wish is to see him married. He tells me he's finally ready. He's already ordered the dress and booked the venue. But when I show up at the venue in my wedding dress, his friends burst out laughing. "You actually believed that? And you even swapped the cheap dress he ordered for a custom-made one? You're the queen of pathetic!" Then one of them yells, "Look, the groom's side piece showed up to crash the wedding!" "Security, come get this homewrecker!" Guests turn to stare like they're watching a joke unfold. Easton doesn't even look at me. He turns to the woman he loves and says, "I told you I'd ruin this wedding for you. I meant it. If you can't have him, no one will!" She gives him a satisfactory smile. Then, he finally glances at me. "Tina said you did her a favor today. When we get married, you can be the bridesmaid, and you can still spend time with us after that." So, he brought me here just to help his sweetheart ruin her crush's wedding. But when Easton finally looks up at the wedding banner and realizes that I'm the bride, his eyes flare with rage.

My childhood friend called, saying he was trapped in a fire. He wanted to hear my voice one last time, and I rushed to the scene as fast as I could. But in that small, blazing spot, there was only a cat. Stumbling, I got the cat out, but my arms got burned. A crowd gathered, pointing at me and laughing hysterically. "She actually went for it?" "What a simp, risking her life like that!" Safe and sound, Colin Porter stepped out of the crowd with a grin. He picked up the cat from my arms and handed it to his crush. "See? I told you the cat would be fine. When have I ever lied to you?" Turning back to me, he said, "The cat got spooked and ran into the fire. We didn't know what to do, so we called you. Thank you for your help." The people around us snickered, like they were watching a trained dog. Later, on my wedding day, my husband carried me to the car. Colin, dragging his burned, bloody legs, crawled on the ground. He begged, "I'm hurt, Selena! Come help me!"

When I was waiting for Theodore at City Hall from dawn to dusk, he was accompanying his first love on a hike. I called him dozens of times, but he rejected my calls instantly each time. He finally picked up on the twentieth call. "Why are you blowing up my phone when you simply didn't see me for a day? Why are you acting so desperate? Sammy's feeling unwell because of her heart and I still need to take care of her at the hospital. We'll talk later about registering our marriage." Ten years of love. This was the 100th time Theodore had left me alone in front of City Hall for his first love. I hung up and calmly tossed the wedding ring away. This marriage? I was done with it.

My boy friend Caleb Ford's childhood sweetheart, Julia Leclair, is losing her hair from chemotherapy. So, he orders me to cut mine off and make her a wig. "Julia's allergic to synthetic wigs. You've been growing your hair for ten years—it's perfect." I refuse, but his friends tie me down. Someone shaves my head to the scalp, buzzing through my thick, glossy hair until nothing's left but a butchered mess. Julia sits in her wheelchair and laughs, saying I look like a toad. Caleb smiles and nods in agreement. He adds with a chuckle, "It's just some hair. Was that really necessary?" But back when I was bullied for having uneven, choppy short hair for six straight years, it was he who stood in front of me. He had his arms spread wide as he shielded me from harm. Now he's the one wielding the blade. One by one, their little circle chimes in. They tell me not to hold a grudge against someone who's sick. Caleb snaps impatiently, "Stop trying to talk sense into her. She can get lost! Did you see that fit she threw over a few strands of hair? It's not like they won't grow back." I turn around and walk away. I never look back. Later, I hear that Caleb begs for my forgiveness by kneeling his way up 9000 steps until his knees are ruined.