“His scars and his tattoos were the medals of his lifetime. He was proud to wear them.”

“I thought of how proud he was when he took the marks- cutting the skin of his throat in a long slash and then packing it with ashes until keloid scars rose up.He called it his second smile.”

“Best followed now is this life, by hurrying, like itself, to a close.Few things remain.He was repulsed in efforts after a pension by certain caprices of law. His scars proved his only medals. He dictated a little book, the record of his fortunes. But long ago it faded out of print--himself out of being--his name out of memory. He died the same day that the oldest oak on his native hills was blown down.”

“He who wears his morality but as his best garment were better naked.The wind and the sun will tear no holes in his skin.”

“I don't regret the painful times; I bare my scars as if they were medals.”

“His scars were hidden and safe in her hand.”