I'm somewhat of a perfectionist.
I like everything in my room has to be in order. If there's a wrinkle in the comforter, I'm stretching it out. But this is only when it comes to my room. Outside of there, I'm not as intense.
I am a control freak. I want everything to be prim and proper.
A perfectionist has to take his time.
I'm prickly. I fuss over every single detail.
I'm not going to deny it. I'm a neat person, there's no question. But I don't become obsessed with it.
I was always a neat kid. I never wanted my hands dirty. I wasn't a dirty kid. A lot of kids like to run around. If I was rolling around the dirt, I went home and took a shower. That's just the way I was. I'm not sure. I might have been born with it.
It is not only a troublesome but slavish to be nice [fastidious].
I always insist on my jeans being ironed. Is that a problem?
I'm not a perfectionist. I don't have enough patience to go over the same details over and over trying to get it perfect.
I'm a really particular person. I want it my way.
Nancy Reagan was a perfectionist, and I am not.
Thoroughness characterizes all successful men. Genius is the art of taking infinite pains. All great achievement has been characterized by extreme care, infinite painstaking, even to the minutest detail.
I found for me that my safe place was work. I could control my environment. I became very fastidious and detailed, and wanted things a certain way.
His tongue is by turns a sponge, a brush, a comb. He cleans himself, he smooths himself, he knows what is proper.
My only phobia is untidiness. My hair has to be neatly kept; my shoes are always clean. Everything has to be in a straight line, in its place.
I was a pedantic child. I'd get really annoyed at the logic of small things that don't bother anyone else.
I do want people to have a sense of just the extreme level of meticulousness and care that goes into everything. I wouldn't expect anybody to catch all the details of what I'm doing. The level of obsession is so extreme.
I'm just a slow writer. I'm picky and careful and fastidious.
I was something that is always hated in Hollywood - a perfectionist; nobody likes a perfectionist, you know.
Crawford washed her hands a lot. She washed her arms all the way up past her elbows. She just couldn't get enough done in that direction. She was compulsive about being clean, clean, clean!
Nothing was ever clean enough for my father. You could never clean as good as he could; you could never clean as fast and as thorough as he could.
The fastidious are unfortunate; nothing satisfies them.
I'm a little bit anally retentive, a little bit OCD, but a whole lot clean.
We must avoid fastidiousness; neatness, when it is moderate, is a virtue; but when it is carried to an extreme, it narrows the mind.
