“Nobody can help me, those are my secrets, scarring my soul just as surely as that razor blade scarred my thighs all those years ago.”

“(...the non-conformist, how do you keep from getting scarred?)/i don’t! i got a scar here…and uh i got a scar on my knee…and uh a few scars on my soul.”

“If you think your scars bother me, you're wrong. In my eyes, you're a hero. Your scars are just proof of that.”

“Noah's fingers lightly touched the long thick ridge below my left shoulder blade. His voice pitched low. "I'm sorry, baby." "No one else knows, Noah. Not even Lila." He kissed my back as he slid his hand over the scars on my arm. "You 're beautiful", he whispered against my skin. Noah lifted my arm and kept eye contact as his mouth trailed kisses along the scars. Pure hunger darkened those chocolate-brown eyes. "Kiss me.”

“Seerow's kindness. Even then, all those years ago, i knew. My father's epitaph had just been written.”

“Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dess? I though that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. "We must see all scars as beauty. OKay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on dying. A scar means, I survivied.”