“Why won’t you look at me?” she murmurs. He doesn’t speak, seemingly at a loss for words. “It’s my scars.” It comes out as barely a whisper. Horror spasms across his face. “What? No,” he says, a bit breathless. “You’re beautiful. All of you.”
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“Part of privilege is not having to look at ugly things.”
“We're in high school. If it didn't come from the school cafeteria, we like it.”
“Pye chat dous men zong li move. The paw of a cat is sweet, but its claws are nasty.”
“But the only thing that is important is, Am I loving God and growing holy every day?”