Geoffrey Chaucer Quotations

The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.

And she was fair as is the rose in May.

There's never a new fashion but it's old.

There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.

Women desire six things: They want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous, obedient to wife, and lively in bed.

The life so short, the crafts so long to learn.

Nowhere so busy a man as he than he, and yet he seemed busier than he was.

Forbid us something, and that thing we desire.

Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.

The guilty think all talk is of themselves.

He was as fresh as is the month of May.

We know little of the things for which we pray.

Whoso will pray, he must fast and be clean, And fat his soul, and make his body lean.

Mordre wol out, that see we day by day.

Full wise is he that can him selven knowe

Ful wys is he that can himselven knowe! (Very wise is he that can know himself.)

But al thyng which shineth as the gold Nis nat gold, as that I have herd it told

Everybody wants to go to the Super Bowl. Nobody wants to run laps.

Whan that Aprille, with hise shoures soote, The droghte of March hath perced to the roote And bathed every veyne in swich licour, Of which vertu engendred is the flour; Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth Inspired hath in every holt and heeth The

The smiler with the knife under the cloak

We little know the things for which we pray.

Seeke out ye goode in everie man, and speke of alle the beste ye can; then wil alle men speke wel of thee and say how kynde of hearte ye bee

What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.

And so it is in politics, dear brother, Each for himself alone, there is no other.

The life so brief, the art so long in the learning, the attempt so hard, the conquest so sharp, the fearful joy that ever slips away so quickly - by all this I mean love, which so sorely astounds my feeling with its wondrous operation, that when I think upon it I scarce know whether I wake or sleep.

Great peace is found in little busy-ness.

The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.

But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.

The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.

Mercy surpasses justice.

In love there is but little rest.

Felds hath eyen, and wode have eres.

For there is one thing I can safely say: that those bound by love must obey each other if they are to keep company long. Love will not be constrained by mastery; when mastery comes, the God of love at once beats his wings, and farewell he is gone. Love is a thing as free as any spirit; women naturally desire liberty, and not to be constrained like slaves; and so do men, if I shall tell the truth.

All good things must come to an end.

In the stars is written the death of every man.

Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all, All pain, all torture, woe and all distress; I have no need on other harms to call, As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness, Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less; Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain In pity for my harsh and cruel pain.

Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.

One flesh they are; and one flesh, so I'd guess, Has but one heart, come grief or happiness.

Abstinence is approved of God.

Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.

By God, if women had written stories, As clerks had within here oratories, They would have written of men more wickedness Than all the mark of Adam may redress.

Time and tide wait for no man.

And gladly wolde he lerne, and gladly teche.

Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.

Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.

The devil can only destroy those who are already on their way to damnation.

Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.

Hard is the heart that loveth nought In May.

Love will not be constrain'd by mastery. When mast'ry comes, the god of love anon Beateth his wings, and, farewell, he is gone. Love is a thing as any spirit free.

Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.

I wol yow telle, as was me taught also, The foure spirites and the bodies sevene, By ordre, as ofte I herde my lord hem nevene. The firste spirit quiksilver called is, The second orpiment, the thridde, ywis, Sal armoniak, and the firthe brimstoon. The bodies sevene eek, lo! hem heer anoon: Sol gold is, and Luna silver we threpe, Mars yron, Mercurie quiksilver we clepe, Saturnus leed, and Jupiter is tin, And Venus coper, by my fader kin!

Every honest miller has a golden thumb.

Patience is a conquering virtue.

Take a cat, nourish it well with milk and tender meat, make it a couch of silk...

The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.

There was the murdered corpse, in covert laid, And violent death in thousand shapes displayed; The city to the soldier's rage resigned; Successless wars, and poverty behind; Ships burnt in fight, or forced on rocky shores, And the rash hunter strangled by the boars; The newborn babe by nurses overlaid; And the cook caught within the raging fire he made.

Patience is a conquering virtue. The learned say that, if it not desert you, It vanquishes what force can never reach; Why answer back at every angry speech? No, learn forbearance or, I'll tell you what, You will be taught it, whether you will or not.

Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.

Til that the brighte sonne loste his hewe; For th'orisonte hath reft the sonne his lyght; This is as muche to seye as it was nyght!

For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe Folowen ful ofte a myrie someris day.

I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.

Many small make a great.

This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.

Death is the end of every worldly pain.

That field hath eyen, and the wood hath ears.

. . . if gold rust, what then will iron do?/ For if a priest be foul in whom we trust/ No wonder that a common man should rust. . . .

For thogh we slepe, or wake, or rome, or ryde, Ay fleeth the tyme; it nyl no man abyde.

A love grown old is not the love once new.

That he is gentil that doth gentil dedis.

Nature, the vicar of the Almighty Lord.

For God's love, take things patiently, have sense, Think! We are prisoners and shall always be. Fortune has given us this adversity, Some wicked planetary dispensation, Some Saturn's trick or evil constellation Has given us this, and Heaven, though we had sworn The contrary, so stood when we were born. We must endure it, that's the long and short.

He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.

One cannot be avenged for every wrong; according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance.

A whetstone is no carving instrument, And yet it maketh sharp the carving tool; And if you see my efforts wrongly spent, Eschew that course and learn out of my school; For thus the wise may profit by the fool, And edge his wit, and grow more keen and wary, For wisdom shines opposed to its contrary.

Certain, when I was born, so long ago, Death drew the tap of life and let it flow; And ever since the tap has done its task, And now there's little but an empty cask.

Right as an aspen lefe she gan to quake.

For out of old fields, as men saith, Cometh all this new corn from year to year; And out of old books, in good faith, Cometh all this new science that men learn.

If love be good, from whence cometh my woe?

But al be that he was a philosophre, Yet hadde he but litel gold in cofre.

Oon ere it herde, at tother out it went.

Strike while the iron is hot.

If a man really loves a woman, of course he wouldn't marry her for the world if he were not quite sure that he was the best person she could possibly marry.

And then the wren gan scippen and to daunce.

But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.

I hold a mouses wit not worth a leke, That hath but on hole for to sterten to.

And for to see, and eek for to be seie.

To maken vertue of necessite.

Eke wonder last but nine deies never in toun.

Soun is noght but air ybroken, And every speche that is spoken, Loud or privee, foul or fair, In his substaunce is but air; For as flaumbe is but lighted smoke, Right so soun is air ybroke.

Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.

That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.

For hym was levere have at his beddes heed Twenty bookes, clad in blak or reed, Of Aristotle and his philosophie, Than robes riche, or fithele, or gay sautrie.

Or as an ook comth of a litel spir, So thorugh this lettre, which that she hym sente, Encressen gan desir, of which he brente.

Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.

Go, little booke! go, my little tragedie!

In general, women desire to rule over their husbands and lovers, to be the authority above them.

This flour of wifly patience.

For oute of olde feldys, as men sey, Comyth al this newe corn from yer to yere; And out of olde bokis, in good fey, Comyth al this newe science that men lere.

What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.

If were not foolish young, were foolish old.