It was, therefore, the sort of loveliness which is not perfect, but draws its charm from a measure of imbalance, which can accommodate flaws and make little of them, for a while at least.

Most details are factually correct; some are not. What was important to the author was something other than accuracy, some essence he thought he glimpsed when he encountered the protagonist of this story.

Perfect, he, as a lover, might have called them off-hand. But no — they were not perfect. and it was the touch of the imperfect upon the would-be perfect that gave the sweetness, because it was that which gave the humanity.

To accomplish the perfect perfection, a little imperfection helps.

Some beautiful things are more dazzling when they are still imperfect than when they have been too perfectly crafted.

To appreciate life's small moments, it helps to have a sense the whole can never be made perfect.

His thoughts were too vague to be described, but they comprehended mysterious elements.

“It always seemed to me they’re sort of alike,” he said, “magic and music. Spells and tunes. For one thing, you have to get them just exactly right.”

It was the thumbprints of human imperfection that used to move him, the flaws in the design: the lopsided smile, the wart next to the navel, the mole, the bruise. Was it consolation he’d had in mind, kissing the wound to make it better?

Yes, perhaps there is some enjoyment in it [his paintings] too, somewhere.

Details make perfection, and perfection is not a detail.

God is in the details.

To him, even the momentary was momentous.

Imperfections need to be appreciated.