Courage Flourishes In Wounds.

There's the odd optimism of looking back on past traumas, of past disappointments, of past agonies, and thinking that they have created beauty and wisdom. I'm uncertain about that sort of optimism. I'm unsure whether we can always hope for beauty to spring from festering wounds; can't we simply hope instead for the wound to close and to scar? Is it really courage that we derive, or resilience of numbness and stubbornness?