The Detective was different. Not that he wasn't a good man; Willie had heard enough about him to understand that he was the kind who didn't like to turn away from another's pain, the kind who couldn't put a pillow over his ears to drown out the cries of strangers. Those scars he had were badges of courage, and Willie knew that there were others hidden beneath his clothes, and still more deep inside, right beneath the skin and down to the soul. No, it was just that whatever goodness was there coexisted with rage and grief and loss.

Under her thick pancake makeup, her sin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.

Under her thick pancake makeup, her skin had been pockmarked, but he would stare at her adoringly from his cot at night and imagine her scars were constellations, a secret map to a far-off, happy place.

The wound made by hurting with fire will heal but the wound created by harsh words uttered using out tongue leaves an indelible scar.

It was wrong to want to touch a scar and call it beautiful.

Scars are just a treasure map for pain you've buried too deep to remember.

The marks humans leave are too often scars.

Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.

Time heals all wounds. But not this one. Not yet.

Comedy is a necessity to get through life with the fewest scars. Humor is the best antidote to help relieve all struggles.

I don't want to die without any scars.

It's so hard to forget pain, but it's even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for happiness. We learn so little from peace.

The lessons of life amount not to wisdom, but to scar tissue and callus.