Of course, you may exclaim, my body is not perfect, even to myself but it is my body which contains, bride like, for better or worse, in sickness and in health, my ability to think and my body in common with the bodies of each human, is designed to enable me to think. It is perfectly designed for this process and thus it is perfect..
Thinking is hard work. I can feel the hard work when I am thinking hard.
Although my body is perfect my thoughts are not and even when perfectly formed my thoughts are touched by the thoughts of others and by the features of where I live and what I do. This touching creates imperfect thoughts, confusing one idea with many ideas, knocking some into a better form and others out of shape.
This is tiring. It tires me to sleep and the dreams I see when I sleep touch me sweetly or hurtfully, and vanish in the mists of wakefulness.