Black line drawing of an infinity symbol with an anchor and heart, the script words Love Anchors the Soul and the reference Hebrews 6.19, shown as a tattoo design.

Infinity anchor with the words Love Anchors the Soul

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

A black line drawing of an infinity symbol with a small anchor and heart at its left loop. Script lettering reading Love Anchors the Soul runs across the centre, with the reference Hebrews 6.19 in a plain sans-serif font on the right loop. The design uses solid black ink on a white background with no shading, and the composition is centred and horizontal.

Lettering Infinity Anchor Heart Love Script Scripture reference

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Take it to an artist as a reference. A good artist will make it yours rather than copy someone else's tattoo.

A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The ferry from Stromness was three hours late, and Ada Rendall had given up pretending the kettle needed her. She stood at the harbour office window with the lamp switched off, so the glass showed her only the wet stone of the slipway, the iron bollards, and the green light blinking on the end of the breakwater like someone who had forgotten what they were waiting for.

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Her mother had stitched a verse onto a tea towel the year Ada married, in the same tight blue thread she used for everything. Hope we have as an anchor of the soul. Ada had thought it old-fashioned then. Tom thought it a good line for a man who spent his life dropping iron into cold water and hauling it back up. He had a small brass heart soldered to the shackle of his spare anchor, a joke he never explained, and when he came home he touched it the way other men touched a wedding ring.

At ten past one the engine came up the channel before the lights did. Ada walked down the slipway with her coat open and her hands in her pockets, and the boat came in slow and low in the water, Tom at the wheel with his cap pushed back. He threw her the bow line without looking, the way he always did, and she caught it. The rope was wet and heavy and smelled of diesel and kelp.

He stepped ashore, and she saw the brass heart was still there, dulled now and pitted with salt. Ada laid her palm over it. "You were late," she said. "The ferry was late," he said, and she thought that was the end of it until he reached into his coat and pressed a single link of chain into her hand, old and blackened. Somewhere off the Pentland Firth it had come up on the hook with nothing else, he said, and he had decided it was hers. She held it all the way home, counting the loops.