Two things scare me. The first is getting hurt. But that's not nearly as scary as the second, which is losing.
Scars are beautiful when we see them as glorious reminders that we courageously survived.
I figured out that I can't forget. I can't really forgive. But I can live. Live with it. Like you live with a scar or a limp or whatever. You always know it's there. It reminds you never to let yourself do anything so stupid and horrible and wrong again. I step out of my rut, step again, and keep stepping. (277)
He said you couldn't pretend the terrible things in life didn't happen. You can't clean it up. You keep all the refuse and the scars. It's how you learn. And try to make improvements.
Perhaps we just need little reminders from time to time that we are already dignified, deserving, worthy. Sometimes we don't feel that way because of the wounds and the scars we carry from the past or because of the uncertainty of the future. It is doubtful that we came to feel undeserving on our own. We were helped to feel unworthy. We were taught it in a thousand ways when we were little, and we learned our lessons well.
The doors to the world of the wild Self are few but precious. If you have a deep scar, that is a door, if you have an old, old story, that is a door. If you love the sky and the water so much you almost cannot bear it, that is a door. If you yearn for a deeper life, a full life, a sane life, that is a door.
I'm a catalyst for change. You can't be an outsider and be successful over 30 years without leaving a certain amount of scar tissue around the place.
Bait is made to look SO good you OVERlook the trap. Whether scratched or scarred you ALWAYS get hurt giving in to Temptation.
The wounds of conscience always leave a scar.
Be proud of your scars. They remind you that you have the will to live.
Be proud of your scars. They have everything to do with your strength, and what you've endured. They're a treasure map to the deep self.
The one thing all that battle taught me, is that no one walks away without scars. No one. (Bad Moon Rising)
Gashed with honourable scars,Low in Glory's lap they lie;Though they fell, they fell like stars,Streaming splendour through the sky.
I was sexually abused by my step father for years and years, and that caused scars you can't see. And we know many people have the kind of scars you can't see.
A scar is not always a flaw. Sometimes a scar may be redemption inscribed in the flesh, a memorial to something endured, to something lost.
I've solved the mystery: You have to submit silently. Open up, let go. Let anything penetrate you, even the most painful things. Endure. Bear up. That's the magic key! The text comes by itself, and its meaning shakes the soul. You mustn't let scar tissue form on your wounds; you have to keep ripping them open in order to turn your insides into a marvelous instrument that is capable of anything. All this has its price.
You can’t walk away from someone you love, leave them drowning in your desertion. If love has no more meaning than that, you can keep it. I don’t want it now or ever again. Don’t want to hear the word or wear its scars.
There's a certain Slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the Heft Of Cathedral Tunes— Heavenly Hurt, it gives us— We can find no scar, But internal difference, Where the Meanings, are.... When it comes, the Landscape listens— Shadows—hold their breath— When it goes, 'tis like the Distance On the look of Death.
I Promise," Shane said. "You'd better, jerkface," Eve said. "How's the head?" "Taped. It's fine, chicks dig scars. Wait, did you just call me jerkface? Are we back in grade school?" "I love you," Eve said. He closed his moth, fast, because obviously that was not what he'd expected. "I, uh, okay, love you too. Can we stop that? It's uncomfortable." "Jerkface." "Much better.
When I saw all of the people I have known all these years, when we got together, it was scary because B.B King and I lived in the same place in Nevada.
That's what a conscience is made of, scar tissue ... Little strips and pieces of remorse sewn together year by year until they formed a distinctive pattern, a design for living.
The best people all have some kind of scar.
I look at ordinary people in their suits, them with no scars, and I'm different. I don't fit with them. I'm where everybody's got scar tissue on their eyes and got noses like saddles. I go to conventions of old fighters like me and I see the scar tissue and all them flat noses and it's beautiful. ... They talk like me, like they got rocks in their throats. Beautiful!
A censure would put an indelible scar on the president's place in history, .. Monica Lewinsky is not Watergate. Let he who has no sin in this chamber cast the first stone.
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