I might correct for the spider the unimportant inconsistancies 
in the construction of his web, designing for him the perfect 
web-archetype: but it is the inconsistency, the unexpected 
response to each small exigency betrayed by his work, that 
I most admire. 

         I might correct to a ten-thousandth part of an inch, 
with the precision of an engineer, the Chinese vase which is 
noticeably lacking in perfect symmetry:  but it is in the frailness 
of humanity seen behind the skilful but fallible hands of the potter 
that I most admire. 

         I might seek a perhaps find, the most perfect human 
being who could serve as a model for my life and for all the 
world:  but it is the imperfection in practise of each living 
creature that means most to me. 

         Perfection is a state of mind and as such is not 
possible of physical attainment.  Instead, in everday life 
we have good reasons for avoiding it.