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

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Yet in our ashen cold is fire yreken.
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Patience is a conquering virtue.
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First he wrought, and afterwards he taught.
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The guilty think all talk is of themselves.
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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.
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'My lige lady, generally,' quod he, 'Wommen desyren to have sovereyntee As well over hir housbond as hir love.'
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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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Thou shalt make castels thanne in Spayne And dreme of joye, all but in vayne.
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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
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Many a true word is spoken in jest
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The fields have eyes, and the woods have ears.
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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.
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Filth and old age, I'm sure you will agree, are powerful wardens upon chastity.
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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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People can die of mere imagination.
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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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Nowhere so busy a man as he there was And yet he seemed busier than he was.
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I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.
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Drunkenness is the very sepulcher Of man's wit and his discretion.
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