Sometimes you could see the scars and sometimes you couldn’t. But everybody had them.

When the sergeant had finally got his rounds on target and I had commended to him a thorough review of the mortar manual, I climbed down the ladder and into the courtyard just in time to rendezvous with a small German shell which exploded a few yards away, raising a cloud of dust and sending me rolling with a small fragment lodged in the sitzplatz. When I opened my eyes, there was my bug-eyed sergeant hanging out the window of the belfry calling to his radio operator, "Joe, I think the Krauts got the old man in the tail." That is how I got my Purple Heart.

At times he regarded the wounded soldiers in an envious way. He conceived persons with torn bodies to be peculiarly happy. He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.

Hearts Live By Being Wounded

A man comes to him (Donald Trump), a veteran, so kindly, what a gracious man, hands him his Purple Heart. What he does, he deceives, thanks, puts in his pocket. Later on, pulls it out. I got this Purple Heart, so easy, I always wanted one. Donald Trump, you had the time, you did not serve. You know what he should have done? And listen to me and I want his surrogates to listen to me. You should have pinned that back to that veteran's chest. He wants to be the leader, commander in chief of this United States of America? That is the thoughtfulness? He should have put that Purple Heart back if he would have been sensible, he would have known what it takes to earn that Purple Heart.

He wished that he, too, had a wound, a red badge of courage.

Our scars reveal our battles, but they also demonstrate our resilience and ability to heal.

I looked down, embarrassed, but she said only, "Some people see scars and it is wounding they remember. To me they are proof of the fact that there is healing." (p125)

nobody makes it through life without collecting a few scars on the way out.

We all bear scars,... Mine just happen to be more visible than most.

Unofficially, nobody really minded the clap. It was a joke to those who had never had it and to those who had been over it for a while. No worse than a bad cold, they said. Apparently the only time it was not a joke was when you had it. And instead of hurting your unofficial reputation it boosted you a notch, it was like getting a wound stripe. They said that in Nicaragua they used to give out Purple Hearts. But officially it hurt your Service Record, and it automatically lost you your rating. On your papers it put a stigma on you. When he put in to get back in the Bugle Corps, he found that while he was away they had suddenly gone over-strength. He went back on straight duty for the rest of his enlistment.

She has been hurt before, but always, always has found her way back from pain. You see, her heart was born a wolf. If anyone has tried to break it with their callousness, it has always gone for their throat.

You’ve got to be tough as nails with your tender heart

To be alive at all is to have scars.