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If no love is, O God, what fele I so? And if love is, what thing and which is he? If love be good, from whennes cometh my woo? If it be wikke, a wonder thynketh me

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
Love
Cometh
Wonder
Thing
Good

More quotes by Geoffrey Chaucer

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The gretteste clerkes been noght wisest men.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Women naturally desire the same six things as I they want their husbands to be brave, wise, rich, generous with money, obedient to the wife, and lively in bed.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Thus with hir fader for a certeyn space Dwelleth this flour of wyfly pacience, That neither by hir wordes ne hir face Biforn the folk, ne eek in her absence, Ne shewed she that hir was doon offence.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Death is the end of every worldly pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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There's no workman, whatsoever he be, That may both work well and hastily.
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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If were not foolish young, were foolish old.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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That of all the floures in the mede, Thanne love I most these floures white and rede, Suche as men callen daysyes in her toune.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Mercy surpasses justice.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Who looks at me, beholdeth sorrows all, All pain, all torture, woe and all distress I have no need on other harms to call, As anguish, languor, cruel bitterness, Discomfort, dread, and madness more and less Methinks from heaven above the tears must rain In pity for my harsh and cruel pain.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Look up on high, and thank the God of all.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Make a virtue of necessity.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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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
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The bisy larke, messager of day.
Geoffrey Chaucer
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Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
Geoffrey Chaucer