Quotes About Emotional Scars Novels & Stories

“It was my mother and grandmother who saved me. Ruff had slowed him down, poor sweet creature. And of course my father had been the one to end Cujola. If they had given up on me for even a moment, I wouldn’t be here. But thanks to all of them, I made it through. Now, I have this horribly ugly scar to remind me of what happened.” Kit looked down, pulling the sheet away where it covered part of the jagged line that ran down the length of his left side. “It’s not ugly to me,” she replied, bending to place her lips in several places along the path. “It’s a story—it tells what you have overcome.” She looked back into his eyes. “Don’t ever think any less of yourself because of it. Scars make us wh

"I know it's not rational." "It's completely rational," he says. "Given the evidence base you're working from." "I don't want to do it. I don't want to be the person who keeps waiting for the other shoe." "Then stop calling it irrational. Call it a scar. And let it be a scar." His voice is very steady. "Scars are allowed. They don't mean you haven't healed. They mean you were hurt and you survived it." A pause. "I'm in Seattle. The meetings are real. I'll be home Friday." Another pause. "And if you call me at two AM because something underneath all your knowing needs to hear my voice — I'll answer."

* * * Max’s POV * * * I wish I can say that over the years I have gotten used to people dying. I never have. I don’t want to. It tears a hole through me whenever somebody I care for dies, no matter the circumstances. But I don’t want it to “not matter” either. I don’t want it to be something that just passes. My pain and my scars are a testament to the love and the relationship that I had for and with that person. And if the scar is deep, so was the love. So be it. Scars are a testament to life. Scars are a testament that I can love deeply and live deeply and be cut, or even burned or lacerated, and that I can heal and continue to live and continue to love. And the scar tissue is stronger th

I inquired "I have a scar and I don’t mind having it." "Well, that’s because yours is on your palm and no one sees it." "I don’t care if people see it or not and I think you shouldn’t care either. Maybe if you don’t see it as a scar you won’t care anymore." "Yeah right." I scoffed "I’m serious. Why don’t you try seeing it as something different." "Like what?" He takes a step closer to me "I don’t know, maybe as an experience for instance, or a memory." He suggested

I guess that’s why I have my scar, a reminder of the fact that I’ll never be as strong as I need to be. As strong as I want to be. Maybe I deserve the scar…. I-i know I deserve my scar it’s all my fault. I… I need to search the body. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, collected the supplies and got to my feet, stumbling backwards as my backpack settled on my shoulders.

, I came out of my car and I wasn’t surprised when Scarlett came out wearing a long face. “You bitch!” She said as she walked towards me. “Can we do this later, I got work. Thank you” I said dryly and made to enter my car but she was fast to touch me by my hand. I quickly removed her hand from my body like it was a plague and looked at her angrily. “Never in your life, I repeat, never touch me with that hand you uses to give my dad a hand job” Scarlett looked pretty embarrassed as I said that but she was quick to cover it up with a scoff.

The more I try, the more she loathes me. "It's the scars." Marcelo suddenly spoke up again, keeping his eyes up ahead. I turned to look at him, needing elaboration. We were already arrived at a luxury clothe store, and Marcelo was driving us into the parking. My gaze never left him. "Once you have them, you don't remain the same." He finally said, as he turned off the car engine. I knew he wasn't just talking about Chloe anymore. He was talking about himself too. "Scars don't heal, Em!"

he said and we went inside the mansion into his room. He made me sit on the bed and removed his t-shirt, he stood in front of me. he grabbed my hand pressed it against his naked chest. “Look,” he said, I did, as I look closely, I noticed a scar on his skin. “It’s a scar,” I whispered. As Nikolai has a scar on his body, I have a scar in my mind. The memory of Greyson’s death. Scars are what make us who we are. Everyone has scars…some are etched into skin, and some are burned into memory. Nobody moves through life without a scar slicing them in half.

"No, I don't think he needs anyone else as his partner, nor do I think you are any less deserving of him. Did you know Lexie, that not too long ago, scars were highly prized in our community?" I just blinked at him, and fortunately enough, he continued without waiting for my answer. "Scars are not just a sign of a life well- lived, but one's scars show that this person is a survivor. That they are stronger than whatever life could throw at them. So don't you ever think that the scars you carry because of your past make you any less worthy, instead, they indicate that you should be celebrated even more!

I choke out the last word, feeling the sting of fresh tears threatening to spill over again. Luna Allison surprises me with how quickly she snaps into action. Her grip tightens as she turns me to face her, her voice stern and unyielding. “No, you are not! I never want to hear you say that again, Zahra Larkin.” Her eyes bore into mine, full of fierce love and strength. “You are beautiful—inside and out. You’re the kindest, funniest, cleverest, and bravest girl I know. Those scars on your back? They show how strong you are. They don’t define you, and they sure as hell won’t limit you. They tell the world that you’re a survivor, Zahra.” Her words hit me hard, and for a moment, I’m just stunned