Quote

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.

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
Hearts
Strands
Journey
Stir
Land
Lands
Spiritual
Doth
Nature
Distant
Sundry
Heart
Foreign
Renowned
Long
Spirituality
Shrines
People
Seeking
Pilgrimage

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Whan that Aprill with his shoures soote The droghte of March hath perced to the roote.
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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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Time lost, as men may see, For nothing may recovered be.
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The cat would eat fish but would not get her feet wet.
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The life so brief, the art so long in the learning, the attempt so hard, the conquest so sharp, the fearful joy that ever slips away so quickly - by all this I mean love, which so sorely astounds my feeling with its wondrous operation, that when I think upon it I scarce know whether I wake or sleep.
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With emptie hands men may no haukes lure.
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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.
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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.
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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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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.
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Patience is a conquering virtue.
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Who then may trust the dice, at Fortune's throw?
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Min be the travaille, and thin be the glorie.
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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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Murder will out, this my conclusion.
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Ful wys is he that kan hymselven knowe.
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Ther is no newe gyse that it nas old.
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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. . . .
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The lyf so short, the craft so long to lerne.
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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.
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