I don't consider 41 being in prime of life. Even if I conceived a child tomorrow I'd be 52 by the time it was 10. I'm not sure I'd have the energy, and I find that quite scary.
If other people think I’m okay looking, that’s great, but I don’t see it myself. When I look in the mirror all I see is a bunch of fake teeth and football scars.
Perhaps reluctantly we come to acknowledge that there are also scars which mark the surface of our earth: erosion, deforestation, the squandering of the world’s mineral and ocean resources in order to fuel an insatiable consumption.
Other times, I look at my scars and see something else: a girl who was trying to cope with something horrible that she should never have had to live through at all. My scars show pain and suffering, but they also show my will to survive. They're part of my history that'll always be there.
It could all be so simple, but you'd rather make it hard, loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars
'They fell in love.' Such a rare and special event cannot be done justice by one statement; it involves so much more than that single sentence could explain: it means two people that were brave enough to show their scars, vulnerability, rough edges, happiest thoughts, along with their worst fears, and find a mutual respect, appreciation, and fondness for one another; they achieved a gift that not many people get to experience in their lifetime in its truest form.
Now don't you understand man universal law What you throw out comes back to you, star Never underestimate those who you scar Cause karma, karma, karma comes back to you hard
I think you learn to live with the pain of miscarrying. The open wound heals and becomes a scar. Not as raw, but always there. A part of you- your heart.
She explained that the bullet had entered through the side of my left eye where there was a scar, traveled eighteen inches down to my left shoulder and stopped there. It could have taken out my eye or gone into my brain. It was a miracle I was alive.
I pretend something scary is in front of me.
Losing my mother at such an early age is the scar of my soul. But I feel like it ultimately made me into the person I am today; I understand the journey of life. I had to go through what I did to be here.
I wish I could say something classy and inspirational, but that just wouldn't be our style. ... Pain heals. Chicks dig scars. Glory... lasts forever.
Because we build the worlds we wouldn't mind living in. They contain scary things, problems, but also a sense of rightness that makes them alive and makes us want to live there.
You can look forward with hope, because one day there will be no more separation, no more scars, and no more suffering in My Fathers House. It's the home of your dreams!
It was as if personality itself had a 'face'. This non-physical face of personality seemed to be the real key to personality change. It remained scarred, distorted, 'ugly' or inferior the person himself acted out this role in his behaviour regardless of the changes in physical appearance. If this 'face of personality' could be reconstructed, if old emotional scars could be removed, then the person himself changed, even without facial plastic surgery.
And be grateful. Our scars have the power to remind us that the past was real.
You dig deep beyond those scars and find that soft tissue again, and you massage and nurture it and bring it to life, little by little, through serving yourself well. I did it through hikes and vitamins and therapy and prayer and good friends.
It's the ones without scars - those are the people you have to watch out for.
I can handle scars, especially one's on the outside.
Everybody in their own imagination decides what scary is.
You develop a lot of scars, being interracial.
Color fills her cheeks, and I think it again: that Johanna Reyes might still be beautiful. Except now I think that she isn't just beautiful in spite of the scar, she's somehow beautiful with it, like Lynn with her buzzed hair, like Tobias with the memories of his father's cruelty that he wears like armor, like my mother in her plain gray clothing.
I didn’t want the person standing there, beside the bed, to have the same face I’d found so attractive at the airport. But you were there all right: the blue eyes, blondish hair, and tiny scar. Only you didn’t look beautiful this time. Just evil.
Desire is an appetite, quickly sated. Longing is a wound, an opening in the heart or the spirit. Whatever the cause, whatever the duration, it almost always leaves a scar.
High School. Society’s bright idea to put all their aggressive, naive youth into one environment to torment and emotionally scar each other for life.
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