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If gold rusts, what then can iron do?
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
Rusts
Rust
Iron
Gold
More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Remember in the forms of speech comes change Within a thousand years, and words that then Were well esteemed, seem foolish now and strange And yet they spake them so, time and again, And thrived in love as well as any men And so to win their loves in sundry days, In sundry lands there are as many ways.
Geoffrey Chaucer
What's said is said and goes upon its way Like it or not, repent it as you may.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Truth is the highest thing that man may keep.
Geoffrey Chaucer
. . . 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
Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Make a virtue of necessity.
Geoffrey Chaucer
We little know the things for which we pray.
Geoffrey Chaucer
People can die of mere imagination.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
For tyme ylost may nought recovered be.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
I am not the rose, but I have lived near the rose.
Geoffrey Chaucer
But all thing which that shineth as the gold Ne is no gold, as I have herd it told.
Geoffrey Chaucer
If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
Woe to the cook whose sauce has no sting.
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
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.
Geoffrey Chaucer