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How potent is the fancy! People are so impressionable, they can die of imagination.
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
Imagination
Dies
People
Impressionable
Potent
Fancy
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
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Mercy surpasses justice.
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Full wise is he that can himselven knowe.
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Fo lo, the gentil kind of the lioun! For when a flye offendeth him or byteth, He with his tayl awey the flye smyteth Al esily, for, of his genterye, Him deyneth net to wreke him on a flye, As cloth a curre or elles another beste.
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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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Ther nis no werkman, whatsoevere he be, That may bothe werke wel and hastily.
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This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo, And we been pilgrymes, passynge to and fro.
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
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Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
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Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
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The handsome gifts that fate and nature lend us Most often are the very ones that end us.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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Patience is a conquering virtue.
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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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One cannot scold or complain at every word. Learn to endure patiently, or else, as I live and breathe, you shall learn it whether you want or not.
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The smylere with the knyf under the cloke.
Geoffrey Chaucer
The greatest scholars are not usually the wisest people.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
