Imperfection

There would be no music if high C were the only note, no art if spectrum red were the only color, no joy in pleasure if pleasure were the only feeling -- and paradoxically, there would be no perfection without imperfection.

What does that mean to me?

Well, it means that I don't have to be perfect.

All I have to do is grow at a pace natural to me --and that is all I have a right to expect of others.

If I can remember these truths, then love -- real love, as opposed to drunken sentimentality -- is finally within reach.

It is not stupid to accept myself and others complete with our imperfections.

It would be stupid not to.

The Best Of The Grapevine [Vol. 1], pp. 60-61

Give me the courage to be imperfect.