I think we are all hopelessly flawed.
Wild roses are fairest, and nature a better gardener than art.
Mrs. Jo did not mean the measles, but that more serious malady called love, which is apt to ravage communities, spring and autumn, when winter gayety and summer idleness produce whole bouquets of engagements, and set young people to pairing off like the birds.
Energy is more attractive than beauty in a man.
I'd rather take coffee than compliments just now.
The duty we owe ourselves is greater than that we owe others.