" She curled my hand into a fist and showed it to me. “Life is a battle, but you can’t fight it with your fists.” She gently tapped me on the chin with my fist and then put her hand on my chest. “You got to fight it with your heart.” She pulled me back to her chest and sucked through her teeth like she was trying to pick the corn out with her tongue. “If your knuckles are bloodier than your knees, then you’re fighting the wrong battle.” “Miss Ella, you don’t always make sense.” “In life,” she placed her finger on my knee, “you want the scabs here”—she placed the other on the cracked skin of my knuckle—“not here. "

― Charles Martin , Wrapped in Rain