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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.

Geoffrey Chaucer

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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer

More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer

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Trouthe is the hyest thyng that man may kepe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The lyf so short, the craft so longe to lerne. Th' assay so hard, so sharp the conquerynge, The dredful joye, alwey that slit so yerne Al this mene I be love... For out of olde feldes, as men seith, Cometh al this new corn fro yeer to yere And out of olde bokes, in good feith, Cometh al this newe science that men lere.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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We little know the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Pitee renneth soone in gentil herte.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'
Geoffrey Chaucer
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What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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One cannot be avenged for every wrong according to the occasion, everyone who knows how, must use temperance.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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. . . 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. . . .
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
Geoffrey Chaucer
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This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Men sholde nat knowe of Goddes pryvetee Ye, blessed be alwey, a lewed man That noght but oonly his believe kan! So ferde another clerk with astromye, He walked in the feelds, for to prye Upon the sterres, what ther sholde bifalle, Til he was in a marle-pit yfalle.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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In love there is but little rest.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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To keep demands as much skill as to win.
Geoffrey Chaucer