Quote by Hunter Shea

“Rubbing the poor itch of your opinion, you make yourselves scabs.”

— William Shakespeare

“At the grave's precipice, our feet scuff dirt, and chunks of the firmament fall away.”

— Ann Voskamp

“She realized the hurt from loss had never completely left. Instead, it had just scabbed over the hole hidden beneath the scar tissue.”

— Carla Reighard

“Maybe some damage couldn't scab over; the wound just bled and bled until it drove you mad or you died of it.”

— Ann Aguirre

“I covered up my mistakes—with dirt, like you’d do with any other dead bodies.”

— Jarod Kintz

“There was dirt under my fingernails for the first fourteen years of my life. It has most likely seeped into my blood.”

— Robin LaFevers

“People really could be one way outside, when inside they were torn to shreds, a fine white powder of grief and regret replacing blood…

— Alice Hoffman

“ed. now. picking at the scab that was starting to heal over. why did guys do that? too little too late?”

— Elizabeth Noble

“Before all the little mean things she told me gathered and gathered and lodged like grit in a skinned knee.”

— Jesmyn Ward

“I rubbed at my temple, where the zit was gone. It still hurt a little , though, deep under the skin. I hate those…

— Lili St. Crow

“They were a sorry-looking bunch. Their clothes were in tatters. Their flesh was ripped. They were filthy beyond filth. For once, they looked like…

— Maggie LaCroix

“One strange feeling, which I remember clearly, was a powerful link with the slain, particularly those that had fallen within the past hour or…

— William Manchester