Best 278 quotes in «scars quotes» category

I look down, trying to see my skin like she does. Underneath the soft, cerulean-blue glow, there are so many lines it looks like a roadmap. I’m so used to the ruts and puffy scars crisscrossing my arms that I forget about them sometimes. They’re the legacy of the questionable talent that’s kept me alive as often as it’s gotten me in trouble. The story of my life is written in the wounds on my skin. I just wish other people could read the story, too. It’d save me a lot of explaining.

I’m an artist; I do not destroy, but create scars. And above that, I am an inventor of new ways to create them.

I'm not talking about the scars that separate your skin, Parker. I'm not blind, I can see those. I'm talking about the scars much deeper than that. The scars that exist within you. The ones you actually try to hide.

I'm not sure that I'm ready for you to start asking about the scars.

In return, Giovanni told me that empathizing Italians say L'ho provato sulla mia pelle, which means 'I have experienced that on my own skin.' Meaning, I have also been burned or scarred in this way, and I know exactly what you're going through.

I PAINT MY FACE. By Omrane Khuder. Mirror, distorted; I sit, paint my Face, Toxic white Make-up buries my Scars, My Eyes tell lies; Dumbfounded Confidence hides the Disgrace. Place the tragic Vehicle called My Life in to Drive, Sad pathetic Clown; Late for the suppression show, Despair another time; Let the chuckles and defeat derive. I paint my Heart; I hide my True. I paint my Soul; I keep it from You. I paint, I cannot accept; To ignore you the way you ignore Me? I paint my scarred and pitiful Face; No Will left to restore Me. I paint my Face; it’s all I know to do. My painted Face shatters the Mirror, yet still all I see is You.

I may not have avoided certain wounds in my life, but I do appreciate these scars because they are a constant reminder of my victories.

Injuries heal, but wrinkles are the scars of time.

I realized that the cuts I had made, they left scars that might never go away. It means alot to me. To know that there will always be something there. Im in love with my scars, they wont ever leave me like everything and everyone else.

I said I'm selfish, I'm a liar and I'm broken Shit runs through my head every day that I would never tell anyone You're just like me The only difference is that I'm honest enough to scream my flaws in the lines of this song

I think you should leave [the scar]. [...] It's not as bad as you think. It will look better once it is healed. And besides, you already have a classical beauty. This gives you a romantic beauty as well.

It had started to drizzle. The lamp poles cast a kaleidoscope of light dancing across the puddles in the road. The rain made Sam feel even more lost now, as if these shadowy events were invisible to the world. As if the night was cloaked in anonymity. This wasn’t a peaceful rain - it was a sad one. A drizzle, which wept for the inevitable. Sam knew even if she got Alison out of this alive, the cuts on their lives had already been made, pooling the blood of consequence beneath their feet as the night dragged on. Whichever way this went, they’d have scars from this night. Scars and scabs and things which could not be spoken. And that made her feel utterly hopeless.

It is easy to display a wound, the proud scars of combat. It is hard to show a pimple

It’s a strange world like that, scared to speak from the heart - incase the world sees our scars.

It's a tiring game resenting the scars and the fearful memories.

It just happens that a lot of us have been through too much that is even too less than our age..and what happens is we cannot but remember it and all we think about is how to make now and after better than before.

It’s okay to not be perfect and not to have everything figured out. It’s okay to feel things that are shameful, hate, and feel guilty. I feel like the message we’ve tried to stand by, is that it’s basically okay to have scars and to show them. To show that you’ve been through all sorts of things and have come out a different and better person because of it.

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.

I spend my nights thinking the worst And telling myself that everything's going to work out I keep kicking myself in the mouth Opening up every cut that should be a scar by now

I want your scars, your darkness, your secrets. I want to see the interior of your soul.

I’ve always felt safer at night. You can be much more forgiving of yourself, not to mention the world and everyone in it, when your shortcomings aren’t threatened by the brazen light of day. And by shortcomings, I mean damage. The scars are still there, but at least they're easier to hide. I never understood why they shine a fluorescent spotlight in the faces of alleged culprits in old movies to get them to tell the truth. Put me to bed and turn off the lights. I’ll tell you everything. I’ll be who you want me to be, I’ll be honest. I’ll be who I want to be, I’ll be braver. Just don’t ignore me. I really do want to be stronger, sweeter, less afraid all the time. Maybe it’s a within-the-womb thing, but it’s safer in the dark. What they should really warn you about is the light.

I want to leave a mark. But Van Houten: The marks humans leave are too often 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.

Love is dangerous. Love leaves scars.

Love me starting with my scars. Those are what will lead you to my heart.

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.

Many displayed in their nudity traces of their past: scars of knife thrusts in the belly, starbursts of guns hot wounds, ridges of the razor cuts of love, Caesarean sections sewn up by butchers. Some of them had their young children with them during the day, those unfortunate fruits of youthful defiance or carelessness, and they took off their children’s clothes as soon as they were brought in so they would not feel different in that paradise of nudity.

Markings in dry clay disappear Only when the clay is soft again. Scars upon the self disappear Only when one becomes soft within.

Maybe I should find another doctor; one who realizes the importance of scars.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think imperfections build character. The most interesting people seem to have the bumpiest pasts. You ever talk to a “perfect” person? What a snooze! I don’t even trust people with no scars. Whether for casual conversation or companionship on any level, I prefer to connect with someone who has experienced the casualties of life’s battles.

I was dying inside, they kept looking for bleeding scars

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.

I was girly and friendly and my family life was happy but many days I felt like I was on the inside what Chase was on the outside. I always believed I was a happy person with a sad soul. I felt like I had had tragedy in my life when I hadn’t. Somehow, without having experienced what he had, his scars resonated with me.

Memories leave a light in the eyes, just as plain as scars.

My poetry has been engraved with your name And my heart is by your memory scarred

My scars teach me that I am stronger than what caused them.

My scars tell a story. They are a reminder of times when life tried to break me, but failed. They are markings of where the structure of my character was welded.

My scars? They are proof that I tore into this world and it tore into me. They are a receipt for time purposefully spent. They are the memories I proudly point to while others timidly speak of their dreams.

Never again will I justify the scars just because I loved the person holding the knife.

Night never needs a shade but it requires to fade into the grin of twinkling stars where light is just a glint of scars

One cannot fight for so long without the scars building on one's soul.

One solitary tear crept through the scars of his face, through the diagrams of constellations and the incised maps of influence and dominion. A liquid without a name, it being made of so many emotions and conflicts, each cancelling the other out until only salt and gravity filled the moment and moved down through his expression.

Only the moon's smile can cure the unseen scars of darkness

On the girl’s brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars a s beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, ‘I survived’. In a few breaths’ time I will speak some sad words to you. But you must hear them as we have agreed to see scars now. Sad words are just another beauty. A sad story means the storyteller is alive. The next thing you know, something fine will happen to her, something marvellous, and then she will turn round and smile.

Our past has a funny way of becoming part of who we are in the future, and I think that’s the way it’s meant to be. Without the scars, without the pain, we wouldn’t be able to appreciate the times when everything is magical — the days when life is absolute bliss.

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.

No matter how long it takes to heal...we share the same scars...

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.

One should show one's scars, not hide them.

Our scars are like the rings in a tree trunk, showing its progress through life. How we heal and move forward through adversity . . . that is what makes the difference.