Quote

. . . 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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Geoffrey Chaucer
Died: 1400
Died: October 25
Astrologer
Linguist
Lyricist
Philosopher
Poet
Politician
Translator
Writer
London
England
Chaucer
Geoffrey Chaucer
Priests
Iron
Gold
Trust
Wonder
Common
Rust
Men
Priest
Foul

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We little know the things for which we pray.
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Alas, alas, that ever love was sin! I ever followed natural inclination Under the power of my constellation And was unable to deny, in truth, My chamber of Venus to a likely youth.
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If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
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At the ches with me she (Fortune) gan to pleye With her false draughts (pieces) dyvers/She staal on me, and took away my fers. And when I sawgh my fers awaye, Allas! I kouthe no lenger playe.
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The devil can only destroy those who are already on their way to damnation.
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In April the sweet showers fall And pierce the drought of March to the root, and all The veins are bathed in liquor of such power As brings about the engendering of the flower.
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
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What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The bisy larke, messager of day.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Certes, they been lye to hounds, for an hound when he cometh by the roses, or by other bushes, though he may nat pisse, yet wole he heve up his leg and make a countenance to pisse.
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
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People can die of mere imagination.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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He is gentle that doeth gentle deeds.
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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The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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For of fortunes sharp adversitee The worst kynde of infortune is this, A man to han ben in prosperitee, And it remembren, whan it passed is.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Many a true word is spoken in jest
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