Black and white photo of a fine line script tattoo reading fearfully and wonderfully made with a small cross, across the side of the ribs.

Script quote with cross on the ribs

Fine line · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A black and white photograph of a fine script tattoo reading fearfully and wonderfully made, with a small cross at the end, running horizontally across the side of the torso. The linework is thin and even with light, clean lettering. A hand with painted nails holds up fabric at the top of the frame, and the image is shot close and straight on.

Fine line Lettering Ribs Script Quote Text Cross

Find an artist for this

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 ink had gone thick in the cold, and Brother Eudo breathed on his reed before daring the next stroke. The novice at the adjoining desk, Pachon, watched him with the look of someone told to learn but not to ask. The lamp smoked. Beyond the shutters the wind off the Nile pushed at the walls, and somewhere below a donkey complained about the hour.

Keep reading

"Why write it so small?" Pachon asked at last. "The psalm would fill the whole sheet."

Eudo kept his eyes on the letters. He had learned the hand from an old man who held that thin lines were the honest ones, that a letter should be as light as the breath that shaped it. "Because the mother wants it sewn into the cloth she will carry," he said. "Small enough to fold away. Plain enough to read when she is tired."

He wrote the words slowly, fearfully and wonderfully made, letting the loop of the f lean into the w. Pachon read them under his breath and frowned. "Fearfully. That is a hard word for a child."

"It is the psalm's word." Eudo dipped the pen again. "The fear is a kind of awe. Something that makes you stop where you stand." When the line reached the edge of the vellum he did not hurry the last letter. He drew a small cross beside it, two strokes no longer than a grain of barley, and sat back while the ink dried to the colour of old bread. "It looks like a tally," Pachon said. "It is where the line stops," said Eudo, "and where the work begins."