Best 281 of Scars quotes - MyQuotes
That’s why we get involved with other people, right? Not just for their bodies, but for everything else, too – their dreams and their scars and their stories.
J. A. Anum
I don't want to heal you. I want to love you until your scars merge with the love bites on your skin.
I feel like a real dead one: having neither blood to bleed nor any flesh or bone to feel the scars; yet I want to hold on to my spirit.
She kisses the shit out of me and I didn't care what I looked like after that.
My brave husband came back from fighting the Turks and brought me a robe of silk and a necklace of human teeth. He sat up at night by his hearth telling tales of battle. Apparently the Turks are ten times more ferocious and fearless than the Scots. 'Perhaps we should invite them here to drive the Scots back,' I suggested, and he laughed, but he didn't kiss me. That's when I learned the truth about scars. A man with a battle scar is a veteran, a hero, given an honoured place at the fire. Small boys gaze up fascinated, dreaming of winning such badges of courage. Maids caress his thighs with their buttocks as they bend over to mull his ale. Women cluck and cosset, and if in time other men grow a little weary of that tale of honour, then they call for his cup to be filled again and again until he is fuddled and dozes quietly in the warmth of the embers. But a scarred woman is not encouraged to tell her story. Boys jeer and mothers cross themselves. Pregnant women will not come close for fear that if they look upon such a sight, the infant in their belly will be marked. You've heard of the tales of Beauty and the Beast no doubt. How a fair maid falls in love with a monster and sees the beauty of his soul beneath the hideous visage. But you've never heard the tale of the handsome man falling for the monstrous woman and finding joy in her love, because it doesn't happen, not even in fairytales. The truth is that the scarred woman's husband buys her a good thick veil and enquires about nunneries for the good of her health. He spends his days with his falcons and his nights instructing pageboys in their duties. For if nothing else, the wars taught him how to be a diligent master to such pretty lads.
Sometimes, the scars are what make us who we are.
They said the doctors could tell from the scars." "Stop." "Scars can tell you how old the wound is." "Stop." "When I stopped going to school, they came and found me. They found me in the closet." "Sarah.
The wound made by hurting with fire will heal but the wound created by harsh words uttered using out tongue leaves an indelible scar.
Scars are an affirmation of living.
She wore her scars as her best attire. A stunning dress made of hellfire.
Yes, my scars shape me Today, I have learnt to cover it with fabric made of hope, faith, perseverance, and determination. For this, I am grateful to life
There comes a moment when we must choose how we’re going to love someone. Some forms of love leave a sweet memory once they’re gone, others leave scars. But there are forms that when stolen, destroy part of who we are—love that transforms us.
Wounds may heal, but the scars remain.
Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory lasts forever.
It's a tiring game resenting the scars and the fearful memories.
And I find myself asking again and again.... What was it about such a beautiful man, who was able to leave such ugly scars?
Look," she said, and just that. That was the only time she opened her mouth, because she wanted to say something unnecessary, something that wouldn't be important or memorable, so I wouldn't have to remember her voice. We looked at the veil then, the thing that had turned her this way, and we smiled.
Giovannie De Sadeleer
The scars on your body do not determine the beauty of your soul.
Scars are proof you have lived life.
Things have their way of staying with you forever, haunting your sleep and giving you false hope.
Scars are something of a body’s memoir.
We took the path that led others nowhere and only we saw the light at the end of the tunnel. They warned us about the monsters we would encounter, the odds that we would meet. And they laughed when we got the scars while fighting the dragons on our way. When we came back out of the tunnel, holding the sword that they always craved for tightly in our hand. Bleeding and the sun shining on our face. We became the tales they wanted to be. We became the reflections of what they always wanted to see themselves through. We became the warriors they had always imagined of.
She doesn't know how easy it is to leave scars, how sometimes just a tiny brown oval will remain, but whenever you look at it you know why it's there.
The scar reminds me of what I can be.
We have our agreement about scars, I know, but this time I looked away because sometime you can see too much beauty.
The scars of your hardship cant be erased only time will value n your heart will be placed.
Time heals. Crushes let up. Splinters work their way out. Doesn't mean they don't leave scars that itch.
Beyond all of that, I could see the wall I had seen from inside the train, the wall that runs along the train line. I assumed that there, behind it, was the west, and I was right. I could have been wrong, but I was right.' If she had any future it was over there, and she needed to get to it. I sit in the chair exploring the meaning of dumbstruck, rolling the word around in my mind. I laugh with Miriam as she laughs at herself, and at the boldness of being sixteen. At sixteen you are invulnerable. I laugh with her about rummaging around for a ladder in other people's sheds, and I laugh harder when she finds one. We laugh at the improbability of it, of someone barely more than a child poking around in Beatrix Potter's garden by the Wall, watching out for Mr McGregor and his blunderbuss, and looking for a step-ladder to scale one of the most fortified barriers on earth. We both like the girl she was, and I like the woman she has become. She says suddenly, 'I still have the scars on my hands from climbing the barbed wire, but you can't see them so well now.' She holds out her hands. The soft parts of her palms are crazed with definite white scares, each about a centimeter long. The first fence was wire mesh with a roll of barbed wire along the top.
We all have our scars. Mine just show more.
...real childhood scars heal, but not when band-aids replace self-reflection.
J. A. Anum
If happiness left scars on our bodies, we would never forget about all the glorious moments we’ve been blessed with.
Echo’s breathing hitches when I slide my thumb along a smaller scar. She likes that spot. I’ve memorized it. A centimeter below the crook of her elbow. Her skin is sensitive there, and when I kiss it, Echo normally falls apart and nearly shatters. I gently press my lips behind her ear, and Echo nudges closer to me. “Why, Echo?” “Because.” I nip at her earlobe, and she shivers. “Because why?” Her shoulder moves under my body. A half shrug maybe. “It makes me feel better.” Fuck that. “Why?” A kiss on her neck. A long one. A lingering one. God damn, Echo tastes so good. Her skin is soft and tempting. But I want answers. “Because sometimes I want to blend in.” I raise my head and stare straight into her eyes, spotting the plain honesty. What she doesn’t understand is that she could never blend in. Blazing red hair. Bright emerald eyes. The most beautiful girl in the world. She’d turn heads regardless of a sweater.
The scar on my chest, the beating of my heart, and the mountains that fostered my appreciation for the cold, hard, natural world—these were the few things that mattered.
No matter how long it takes to heal...we share the same scars...
Markings in dry clay disappear Only when the clay is soft again. Scars upon the self disappear Only when one becomes soft within.
Scars a testament to your bravery, not a symbol of weakness or inferiority.
Those scars are not your fault. You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Your mom definitely does and possibly your dad, but you? Nothing...
Sometimes, it's okay to let your guard off and be vulnerable, it's fine to let your scars bleed because you're human.
Men who believe that the way to the mind is not by way of ice picks through the brain or large dosages of dangerous medicine but through an honest reckoning of the self.
There was something beautiful about his scars, something lovely about his fallibility.
You want to know how I got these scars? I ripped every last piece of you out of my smile.
For me, the most interesting people seem to have the bumpiest pasts. I prefer to connect with someone who has experienced the struggles, battles, and casualties of life’s journey. There is beauty, wisdom, and truth to be found in the scars.
Scars can mark you for greatness.
Lumani had never managed a failed delivery because, in the end, no matter how skilled or how hard they fought back, pressure applied in the right places caused even the strongest men to fracture. But this one? He'd watched her. Studied her. Observed what maybe even Uncle, the reader of people, had missed. This one was already fractured, and the lines between her broken pieces were not fissures but scar material stronger than whatever had once filled those spaces.
One can cut the body, and it will heal - but do it over and over again in the same spot, and you will scar. The soul cannot be so different.
And scars will lighten, they'll pale unless you keep rubbing at them...wait long enough, they'll fade.
I understood now: how nothing looked more beautiful than that scar of his, that borderline that separated what Jacob could have been had he stayed in that orphanage from who he is.
The taste of moon is like honey to all honeymooners, but after some years does the moon's scar make it bitter?
I was dying inside, they kept looking for bleeding scars
I averted my eyes, looked around, and stumbled through all the faces in the room till they finally rested on his. He was standing like a scared bird, waving one wing and using the other to hide his scar. Aya Rabah- Scars