Black serif lettering reading peace will win, fear will lose, tattooed on the inner forearm in a lettering style.

Peace will win, fear will lose quote on forearm

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A two-line quote in a black serif typeface, reading peace will win on the top line and fear will lose below, sits across the inner forearm. The letters are solid black with fine, even edges and little visible shading. The skin is pale and the background is softly out of focus, with a dark patterned object and a blue tiled surface to the right.

Lettering Forearm Quote Word Peace Fear Text

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sit nearer, you. The fire's only good for talking now that coal costs what it does, so bring your chair to the hearth. This is a story about Blaenhafod pit, and I don't tell it to the back of a room.

Keep reading

In the winter of the long stoppage, when the owners had padlocked the gates and the men stood at the bottom of Shaft Two with their caps in their hands, there was a girl called Nest Pryce who carried soup from the chapel hall up the hill. She had a slate and a stub of chalk, and every evening she wrote on the brick wall of the drying room the news the newspapers would not print. Most of it was nonsense: who had a new baby, whose mule had gone lame. But one night she wrote two lines in a plain hand, and nobody could say who had told her to.

Peace will win, fear will lose. The under-manager came down with a bucket and a stiff brush to scrub it off, and he got as far as the first word before old Dai Lewis put a hand on his arm. Dai said, you can wash the chalk, boy, but you'll not wash what the men have read. The under-manager went home. The wall stayed marked for a month, and the men who passed it on the way to the soup line walked a little taller, or so my mother said, and she was standing right there.

When the gates opened in March the chalk had worn away, but the lines had been copied into a dozen pocket books, and one of them is in the drawer of my sideboard still, folded soft as cloth. Nest kept the chalk. Shall I tell you what became of her? No. Pass me the poker. That's the end of the story and the start of the fire.