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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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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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Patience is a conquering virtue.
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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
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For many a pasty have you robbed of blood, And many a Jack of Dover have you sold That has been heated twice and twice grown cold. From many a pilgrim have you had Christ's curse, For of your parsley they yet fare the worse, Which they have eaten with your stubble goose For in your shop full many a fly is loose.
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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.
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One eare it heard, at the other out it went.
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For tyme y-lost may not recovered be.
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
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In general, women desire to rule over their husbands and lovers, to be the authority above them.
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The devil can only destroy those who are already on their way to damnation.
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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.
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For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.
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Death is the end of every worldly pain.
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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
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The guilty think all talk is of themselves.
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Mercy surpasses justice.
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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.
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But manly set the world on sixe and sevene And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.
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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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What is better than wisdom? Woman. And what is better than a good woman? Nothing.
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Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
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