[The Catholic convent] had been like the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and there are white scars on my soul, where ignorance and superstition burnt me with their hell fire in those stifling days.
Can we follow the Savior far, who have no wound or scar?
Forgiveness is a scalpel that removes emotional scars.
I live for a woman who scratches, just make sure to keep it on the back, baby, I dont like scars." ~Otto Carvalletti
Who was this women?' asked Harry. 'I dunno, some Ministry hag.' Mundungus considered for a moment, brow wrinkled. 'Little women. Bow on top of er' head.' He frowned and then added, 'Looked like a toad.' Harry dropped his wand. Harry looked up and saw his own shock reflected in Ron and Hermione's faces. The scars on the back of right hand seemed to be tingling again.
I don't regret my painful times, i bare my scars as if they were medals. I know that freedom has a high price, as high as that of slavery; the only difference is that you pay with pleasure and a smile, even when that that smile dimmed by tears
There. Maybe if you're lucky, you'll get a scar! That's what you want, isn't it?
Julian once wrote that coincidences are the scars of fate. There are no coincidences, Daniel. We are puppets of our subconscious desires.
falling in love is the most natural thing in the world. Everybody has been through it, everybody has scars, everybody wants to restart falling in love.
One writes of scars healed, a loose parallel to the pathology of the skin, but there is no such thing in the life of an individual.
The adventurer in me felt obliged to testify with a quicker instrument than a brush to the scars of the world.
I'm a grown woman. I've earned my experiences, my scars.
I love scars on people. Scars to me are so attractive.
You always notice a facelift on a woman. It's a tightness around the ears, and the scar is usually inside the ears. If I suspect it's been done, I usually move around until I can see it. But with a man, it actually pulls your beard and your sideburns back, and that's what's so strange.
The scars will take me far, they always do.
Scars are wisdom in disguise.
Chicago Cubs fans are ninety percent scar tissue.
Well, I worked in a sheet metal factory once and scarred my wrist from the cuts. I found a sympathetic psychiatrist who told the draft board I was insane. We used the scars as proof of a suicide attempt.
Love is possible. Life is going to decide. Don't lose it, it's a treasure. It's going to be painful; it's going to be an adventure, a roller coaster. Life is a roller coaster and it gets worse when you get old. Contrary to what you think, that it gets better when you know more - no, the more you know the more painful it is. You've been hurt. You arrive with a million scars and your armor is not thick. The more you age, the more you're fragile. But do it anyway. Go for it. Otherwise it means death.
The horror of it is, every goddamn thing you look at seems pretty scary to me.
The most recent was my match against Daniel Bryan at Fastlane. He kicked my scar from my recent hernia surgery. That was painful. I needed to take a step back from training that next day!
It has long been a tradition among novel writers that a book must end by everybody getting just what they wanted, or if the conventional happy ending was impossible, then it must be a tragedy in which one or both should die. In real life very few of us get what we want, our tragedies don't kill us, but we go on living them year after year, carrying them with us like a scar on an old wound.
Christ, as the ultimate Imago Dei is alluded to in scripture as being without external beauty in the Classical sense, and should better be thought of as one who passed through all the slime and mire of a fallen and sinful creation in order to redeem it. His own body is to be remembered for the marks it bears-even in resurrection-of the scars of his sacrificial death. For the Christian, a theory of beauty might better begin at this point.
You have to trust your government. Don't let every scar, every wart, every hiccup condemn the whole body.
My God", he whispered. What have I done to her? He thought, humbled. The spell was broken, but it wasn't sealed, and her soul was bare to him, the scars of her tragic past and her triumphs over pain and her aching need to find her place. He just wanted to hold her to him and tell her it would be okay, that she had survived and was beautiful.
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